


Giving Consent to Fate

by FreakCityPrincess



Series: A Vast Enough Galaxy [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: And he damn well gets it, Bodhi Rook Needs a Hug, But in this rebellion we stay Focused, Cassian likes Jyn's fire, Escape from Scarif, F/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Battle of Scarif, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 13:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakCityPrincess/pseuds/FreakCityPrincess
Summary: It would have been peaceful, and fulfilling, to perish in the blast of her father's creation with that blissful sense of a purpose fulfilled.But it looks like the Force has different plans for them, and they're now fighting a losing battle for their lives.Or, with the clock ticking and the end approaching fast, Cassian, Jyn and Baze make a desperate bid to save what remains of their team.





	1. here at the end of all things

**Author's Note:**

> **The very first part of this series taking place before anything else.**   
>  **Enjoy!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame Gareth Edwards for this cycle of obession, and depression. 
> 
> Time to fix that.

Jyn wasn't certain if it was her heart or her left leg that lurched when the turbolift shuddered to a halt at the bottom of the Citadel. She fell forward halfway into Cassian. He bit back a wince and gripped her arms in a cruel imitation of an embrace, but when she made an effort to push off he held on, coughed some words that she didn't catch and staggered to straighten his knees with her frame for support. She conjured up whatever strength she had left, hauling him to lean against her side as the doors belatedly pulled open. 

The sun stang in her eyes. As did the smoke from ignited grenades and fallen walkers. The strong smell of sea mixed with metal and rust carried the aftertaste of blood and salt over to them. Or maybe that was just her. Maybe it was just the blood in her mouth. 

Cassian's right arm was like a friction-filled rope around her neck, cutting into the seared skin as they surged forward without words. He'd gone limp like a piece of heavy lead. But he breathed, heavy, greedy breaths, and his heartbeat was louder than his footsteps and he was here with her at the end of all things- so many others weren't, so many others wouldn't want to be- but he was here. 

Even after a fall of six stories. Even after the universe had given him every reason to lie still and let his life drain out in slow, easy release, and his legs were rendered almost completely immobile. 

He was here, and he was as beautiful as anything she had ever known. If there was any right way to die after the thankless life she'd lived, Jyn decided, it would be dying alongside a person she was finally grateful for.

"I can't..." Cassian sucked in a breath, loud, oddly pitched. A wince crinkled his eyes. "Leave me here. I can't keep up. You need to get to...get to the ship, Jyn."

Jyn stopped in their walking process. Inhaled. The air smelt of blood and salt, blaster oil and dirt. 

Maybe some of that was him. 

"No."

A simple answer, straight and defying, that didn't take a lot of energy to give.

She expected him to argue but he didn't, only smiled, and bowed his head in drained acceptance. "You're different."

What did that mean? "What's that supposed to mean?"

Cassian straightened his back, visibly clenched his teeth against a sharp stab of pain, and spoke again in a tone that bore no hint of it. "I wouldn't have followed anyone else to Scarif."

Jyn tightened her grip on the hand hanging at her shoulder and shook her head. "We're going to make it. Just find cover and find the ship and we'll be fine."

The Captain bit his lip. Pain again. Broken back. Protesting bones. "We don't have time. Jyn."

She didn't ask because he was looking sadly to the horizon, and when she followed his gaze she didn't have to. Something dropped in her stomach. Something extinguished inside of her. How hard was it to _go on_ without being repeatedly reminded of the galaxy's cruelty? 

"Go," said Cassian quietly. She almost didn't hear him, because he sounded like a man gathering air for his last breath. 

"I'll never outrun it when they fire," said Jyn, and they didn't know how long it would take for the planet's obliteration, but they both knew it was true. 

"Then stay," Cassian pushed his bloodstained fingers between hers.

She could smile. Laugh, even. Somehow she wasn't afraid of her father's brainchild- because with certainty she believed it wasn't unstoppable. It wasn't indestructible. Her father had seen to that, and she, Cassian- everyone who'd followed them to Scarif- had just told the whole galaxy how.

Jyn loosened her hold and they dropped to the sand. Blood and metal and salt. Biting wind. A dull green glow on the horizon that was growing, growing.

"I'm glad you came," she said. His hand found hers. She held on. The smile he allowed was the smile of a man at peace, who'd accepted his fate and was glad for it. 

"Your father would be proud of you, Jyn."

Funny how she couldn't wait to meet him again. 

###### 

_I'm one with the Force, and the Force is with me. I'm one with the Force and the Force is with me. I'm-_

"The Force is with me," grunted Baze, hefting his friend's form from the ground. "And I'm one with the Force."

Chirrut Îmwe was dying his arms. Starships whizzed like deadly metal flies in the sky overhead, the bright, beautiful but marred skies of Scarif, and although there was sun and sand this infernal planet got nowhere close to resembling Jedha. 

"The Force is with me." Chirrut was smiling wordlessly at his chanting. The fool was _smiling._ "And I'm one with the Force."

Baze couldn't discern where he'd been shot, but dark blood stained the white part of his robes and the light was fading from his eyes. 

He cared. He cared more than he was willing to admit, but if they were both going to die, what was wrong with making that felt? 

"The Force is with me," he lifted the monk's body in its entirety, which may have been weightless were it not for the heavy robes, the hidden weapons, and the repeater cannon clinging to his own back. "Chirrut, hold on."

"Not for long, my friend," the words were startlingly coherent, not at all in synch with the way he looked. "If these are my final moments-"

Baze turned his back to a volley of blaster shots. Thick smoke still surrounded them and only his armour was hit. His cannon took a strike but didn't blow up on his back. 

"They're blind," huffed Baze, ducking his head and squaring his shoulders as he dregged through to safety. Whatever safety. The small bit of cover provided by the console of the master switch. 

Chirrut coughed out a laugh. 

There wasn't enough cover. As soon as the fog cleared they were both going to die. 

Because of all the noise and buzzing and the pounding in his head, Baze didn't hear the soft click of a grenade that found its place beside them. Chirrut, who'd only ever had the one sense, did. 

He followed the monk's tilt with his eyes, burned with a fury that was deeper than skin, deeper than his perpetually tired bones, and set his only friend down to reach for the mocking little explosive. 

He held it in his large hand for a whole two seconds, snorted an amused sound. 

Aiming with an expertise he'd picked up in the early days of Imperial occupation on Jedha, Baze rose from their sliver of safety and tossed the grenade back the way it had come. 

The explosion that followed was like ignited gasoline, furious and lapping, and Baze only felt a little guilty if he'd cost his friend the one sense. 

###### 

Bodhi made it a point to slam the doors shut as soon as he'd hauled himself in. 

Well, he'd done _something_ more than watch and wait, but he was wrecked in his conscience and worried, guilty, wondering at the state of his frie- everyone else. 

He'd had _friends_ in the backwater Imperial academy that he'd trained in. _Friends_ were people you played card games with and bet your hard-earned credits on. He hadn't known any of these people for more than a few days.

He tried not to care but it wasn't possible. Not when it felt so wrong to be removed from the line of fire once again-

Force, did he have a death wish? 

"Maybe," Bodhi said out loud, to himself, to the ghastly empty insides of the ship. "You wouldn't be here otherwise."

Around him, the battle raged. 

A sudden blast rocked the shuttle on its hunches and tethered on the brink of a fall, but everything fell down the other way and brought it to a cautious balance.

Something blew up in violent, lapping fire a short distance away. Somewhere a walker collapsed to the ground. Everything shook, or maybe only _he_ did, and the battle raged on all around him and his safe haven. 

Bodhi scrabbled to the pilot's seat and forced himself upright. He wasn't here to watch, he had a job to do. _You're our only way out,_ Cassian had said. He couldn't abandon his duty just because he was starting to abandon hope. 

Was anyone even left _alive_ to save? 

The answer came to him like a response from the Force. The ship's comm cackled to life.

"Rook," someone spat. He imagined blood on the other end. "Rook, you there? Get us. Come get us."

"I copy," said Bodhi, and damn if his voice gave away his relief and fear and frail hope all at the same time. "Where...where are you?"

"Coast." A rush of static. "We see you."

Bodhi searched with darting, desperate eyes. Almost crowed in victory when in the distance, along the unobstructed stretch of coast, he spotted three figures moving. Well, trying to move. And they weren't dressed in plastoid armor, or Imperial garb, or a black flightsuit like his.

"On my way," said Bodhi, but the comm signal gave out and burst into static again. It didn't matter, he had visual. Most importantly, he had something to do. 

The U-Wing's engines hummed out of hybernation as he flicked rapid fingers on buttons to take off. He wasn't sure if it was the ground or the ship that was moving. 

He prayed that he wouldn't be shot out of the sky by the enemy- or, Force forbid, a rebel ship- as the cargo shuttle slowly but surely rose from its perch on the platform, like an infant testing its ability to walk for the first time.

Around the ship he flew, the battle raged. 

A torpedo flew within an inch of the portside wing, hit an X-Wing and sent it spiralling in a swirling mass of gas and fire, red and blossoming, spreading, encroaching into his airspace. The cargo shuttle rocked in the shockwave. Pieces clattered to the floor from the overhead racks. Bodhi just barely managed to avoid slamming into the dashboard. 

A warning light went off on the dashboard. Another hit to the portside wing would prove critical. 

"No, no, no, _Force._ "

He was shivering again. Bor Gullet was crawling into his brain from his ears, and his nose and mouth. 

Bodhi hadn't aced his classes. He'd never trained for the war zone. He was a cargo pilot, just a cargo pilot... 

The massive head of an AT-ACT turned upwards to look at him. Surely they couldn't tell he wasn't an Imperial-

They didn't. He could be seen from the cockpit. He still wore his black flightsuit with the enemy's insignia.

He thanked the Force when it didn't fire and turned in another direction. He flew from around and searched for the three figures, the rebels- _Three? More than three went!_ -and prayed again that the Empire wouldn't notice his intention. 

He made it to the strip of coast amidst some lucky maneuvering through crossfire and after winding through the towering limbs of the walker, and pale sand drew closer, and closer, until he saw definite figures. 

Some small part of him dropped to his knees and thanked the Force that Chirrut and Baze were among them. Chirrut and Baze, whom he'd known for longer than the others, who were more familiar faces.

Bodhi clenched his teeth and turned the ship around to descend. 

Everything was somehow louder on the ground. From the cockpit he saw that the three rebels weren't alone. 

They weren't seeing what he was seeing. A squadron of troopers running from the foliage. Aiming for his- allies. 

Bodhi turned the ship's only gun on the squadron and couldn't fire. How was he supposed to fire? Troopers were the Empire but they were _sentients-_

He hit the button to open the shuttle doors. He didn't hear them open and hit it again. 

Cursing, he strapped out of his seat and ran to the back of the ship. Stopped mid-way when a blaster belonging to one of the rebels, dead by now, lied in his path in the corridor.

Bodhi picked up the weapon and ran again. 

He got to the door amidst heavy panting, held the blaster in one hand, slapped the hatch-release with the other. Painfully slowly, the double doors opened. 

Baze had Chirrut practically carried in both arms and the other rebel turned around and fired at the troopers. A volley dented the ship. Bodhi clung on with a hand and felt his ankle sprain. 

"Come on, come on!" He shouted, panicked, desperate. Baze wouldn't make it three steps if their third companion couldn't hold off the squad. 

"Kriff this," swore Bodhi, knuckles going white around the blaster. He dropped down from the hatch and cursed at the shot of pain. 

"Go!" He yelled, surging forward with the weapon. "Go, go, go!"

Baze made a run for it without sparing a backwards glance. 

He fell in step beside the unnamed rebel and fired a volley of his own shots. Everything flew wide of their targets. _At least he couldn't claim he'd killed a man after this._

The rebel staggered back as a bolt got his shoulder. Then struggled to his feet and yelled at Bodhi to turn around. 

Good fortune or the Force saved them both until they could scramble in through the hatch, but the blaster bolts followed even then. 

Baze had set Chirrut down- Bodhi wasn't sure how wise that was, but his mind was a mess and stars burst behind his eyes- and was drawing the huge cannon from its holster on his back. 

The unnamed rebel had a hand on his bleeding shoulder and was losing feeling in his arms. He didn't join them in defending the ship. 

Bodhi slammed the button for the hatch and it didn't work. He cursed, and Baze repeated with added, harsher words.

Somewhere in the chaos, a grenade rolled onto the durasteel floor. 

You don't have time to think in war. Bodhi's reflex action was to pick up the explosive and hurl it from the ship. 

Blind pain exploded in his hand as he collapsed backwards, his world disintegrating like the last he'd seen of Jedha. 


	2. we'll take the next chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Graphic Depictions of Character Injury.**

_Cassian remembered the first time he'd done something unspeakable for the rebellion's sake._

_A boy of twelve, taking down one trooper of many from his perch behind a collapsed hut. One stormtrooper of a batch, with no individuality, no feature to stand out for, nothing special to remember or distinguish in the plastoid armor and full-face helmet._

_Except, of course, it had been his first kill, and he'd been only twelve._

_Cassian couldn't count the actions he regretted on the fingers of both hands. Couldn't recall a majority of them. Only the special moments, only the things that were truly haunting, and that was bad enough._

_He regretted but never stopped to think. Never got to. Hated himself but could do nothing about it. Knew it was all wrong but worth it. Because the cause was greater than him, greater than his individual conscience, and he'd made a pledge he intended on keeping._

_Except now. Except at the end of all things._

_Scarif had been his own contribution to the rebellion and the only one that would be for himself as well. Because for once he knew something was_ right. 

_He was ready to die with that knowledge. For the first time he felt peace, or something remotely akin to it._

_He would soon see all the people he'd ever killed. He would also come to face everyone he'd lost._

_He decided he was ready for that._

###### 

The sudden absence of Jyn's arms from his broken back became cause for panic as his eyes snapped open and he searched. For her. It was too bright.

He heard the lapping waves and the rumbling sky, like this section of planet was caving in on itself, crumbling into a sinkhole drilled by the Death Star. 

And a vice-like grip found his wrist. Jyn's face, smeared in blood and dirt, swam into the forefront of his vision. A golden hue decorated one half of her face. She was shouting something he didn't understand. 

An arm around his shoulders again. They were on their feet, standing still and riding a heatwave. Jyn as trying to put one foot in front of the other. 

"Stay with me," she said, and followed with something else, but he didn't catch it. 

Where were they going? Why were they trying to outrun the oncoming destruction? 

"A few more steps. A few more."

He wished he could ask, but he wasn't sure how that would play out. 

She was hauling him up, now. Extraordinary for someone so small. Large, rough hands yanked him aboard something. Metal, grating, like durasteel, and definitely not Jyn. 

He was stunned enough by pain and the offended wounds to panic and call her name. Something slammed shut at his feet. His heart lurched in his chest. 

Hard metal, not sand, dug into into his aching back. 

What the hell was going on? 

###### 

Jyn was helped up by an already-failing Serchill to stumble onto the floor as the transport jerked. 

Hot air seared past burnt flesh on her skin, striking her face enough to cram her eyelids close and paint her tongue the taste of drying blood, a wind and debris and half a tidal wave swept past, the ship rocking, surging against the furious forces of nature, its rear hatch wide and open to the elements. She held on to something. Or something held her in place. Confusion and adrenaline threatened to hollow out her lungs in her scream. 

And the hatch whizzed shut suddenly, a barrier between herself and the elements that she was at once grateful for. 

The noise was only slightly muted. But around them, this- she was inside a ship, the same ship they'd arrived in- Scarif was being destroyed. 

###### 

The Death Star hadn't been in the sky when they'd unanimously decided to scavenge for survivors. Or the pilot had decided on his own, rather, driven by some illogical and inexplicable sense of loyalty or guilt. 

Bodhi had screamed fire when the grenade went off in his hand and he lost all feeling, and the blood gurgled over, rushing like floodwater from his lost hand. But then his screams had turned into words as the 'trooper squadron fired at the ship- and Baze, tossing aside his cannon and shouting at Chirrut to hold on, had run into the cockpit and hit whatever buttons the pilot was instructing in his wails. 

Serchill- that was the other rebel's name- had turned up at his shoulder and snatched the wheel, getting the bombarded ship shakily off the ground.

And they were in the air and free to get the hell off this planet- or as far from the war zone as possible- but the _pilot,_ the only one who knew to fly _enough,_ had kicked up a fuss that _others._

Perhaps if these weren't live events but a story, Baze would have commended the man for his somewhat misplaced sense of loyalty. As it were, Baze Malbus was a very real part of the story and only thought of the mortally injured man as unbelievably foolish. 

Serchill had turned to him with bloodshot eyes. "Are we going to do it?"

Baze had flickered his gaze back at Chirrut, whom he wasn't sure was even breathing now, and Bodhi, who had struggled out of his loose trousers and was single-handedly trying to cease the bloodflow with the cloth. Tactful man.

Either they wouldn't make it or they wouldn't make it. 

"Yeah," Baze had pushed to the back to check on Chirrut and maybe the original pilot if he could help. "Do it."

Jyn and Cassian weren't hard to miss because they were at the bottom of the tower and it was the first place Serchill thought of looking. 

That was moments before the Death Star unveiled itself in Scarif's blue skies. 

###### 

"What are you doing?" Baze turned when Serchill staggered out of the cockpit. "The ship won't fly itself!"

The man had found it in him to choke out a humourless laugh. "You know the first thing about ships, mate?"

Bodhi struggled to his feet. Kriffing struggled to his _feet._ Said nothing as he pushed past them to the cockpit. 

Baze didn't question his motive because he knew he'd doubt the man's sanity even more if he knew. 

And then Serchill was opening the rear hatch and the ship was dipping, slowly, on its own or by Bodhi's doing, and he was reaching out for two figures embracing on the beach. 

Baze drew in a sharp breath. He had never expected to see them again. 

"Andor! Erso!"

Jyn was the first to look back, startled, her grip death-like and protective on Cassian.

Utter disbelief lit her face first. Then a flicker of hope. Then the golden glow of a crumbling horizon. 

He acted fast. Serchill hauled the diminutive woman in. She didn't loosen her grip on her companion and that made it easier for Baze to heave the man in through the door. 

And not a second too late, because the heat hit them fast. 

The shuttle did spins and slammed into spitting debris, rocks, sand, steel. Water. There was a lot of water, but the doors were mercifully shut and he only heard the thunder of waves. 

What must this be like, he wondered, for the dying man with only his auditary senses? 

Serchill skittered past him into the cockpit. Desperate to take the controls from their one-armed pilot. If either was skilled enough to get them out of this.

The overhead racks jittered and dropped its contents. Chirrut clenched a fist to his heart and gripped the leg of a bench with white knuckles. Jyn caught Cassian's limp frame when the floor swooped upwards, slamming hard against the curved wall in her bid to shield him. Baze webbed his arms between two racks. Gritted his teeth and kept in his curses. 

The ship capsized and plummeted downwards. Down, _miles_ down in a fall that dropped his stomach. Jyn clutched the dying man harder. Chirrut stumbled back but was stopped by Baze's sturdy leg keeping a grip on the floor. 

And then they swerved up in a steep arc that knocked Baze back, too. 

Golden light and sea spray flittered against the ship's side viewports.

The ship broke Scarif's atmosphere with a jolt and a burst of speed, and it was suddenly black, star-sprinkled space in the viewports.

###### 

Bodhi Rook had lifted himself off the pilot's seat and passed out in the narrow aisle just as soon as he was able to. 

Not really. No. There was a battle happening above Scarif, and although the worst was past they still needed to steer clear of it. 

Rostock Serchill was not an experienced pilot. He'd only ever flown a ship a lifetime ago, before the Rebellion, when he was a different person, and he'd abandoned that half-talent when his proficiency with a gun had become clear. This, Serchill thought, was nothing short of the most ludicrous- _miraculous_ -feat he'd ever pulled in his long career or before it. 

He spared a moment to leave the copilot's seat and look into the back of the ship. 

"Don't get your hopes up," he informed the bulkier Guardian. "We need to hightail it out of here before we're noticed by a bigger ship with guns."

If the older man wasn't naturally recovering, he was forcing himself to. Baze got to his feet without more than a grunt. "Tell me why we can't do just that."

Serchill looked down, shook his head. "If I try to run hyperdrive calculations we're all going to end up far worse than shot by the enemy."

Baze glared hard in the rebel's direction, as if debating whether or not the man was trying to be funny. "Our companions are dying, Lieutenant."

Serchill raised his head in Cassian's direction, a dry lilt to his voice when he spoke. "Rook is out cold and Captain Andor is the only other person on board who can run those calculations."

Baze turned towards the _other_ dying man- not entirely leaving Chirrut's side, even though he could discern that the monk was either no longer conscious or no longer breathing. Jyn looked up and met his gaze from the floor, where she cradled Cassian's back against her body for support or shielding, either option possible considering what they must have gone through. 

"Is he awake?" Baze asked, less gruffly, but softer than he'd intended. 

Cassian dropped his head back and ilicited a soft groan in response. 

Jyn ran tentative fingers through the hair sticking to his scalp, slowly, encouragingly. "Cassian?"

The spy only screwed his eyes shut tighter.

Baze, Serchill and Jyn turned their heads in the direction of the right viewport when the ship rumbled slightly. 

Below them, a portion of Scarif was disintegrating in a brilliant cloud of flame and gasoline.

For all of three minutes, the ability to form words died down in their throats. 

"The rebel ships are retreating," Serchill turned to the other viewport, shaking himself. "And this U-Wing could be Alliance or Empire. If we hang around, blend in..."

"If we make a move to escape with the rebel fleet, we'll be labelled and shot," Jyn spoke up, voice surprisingly coherent. "We should stick around."

"And use that time to treat our injured," the Lieutenant nodded curtly. The corners of his lips twisted upwards in a humourless smile. "Sorry, we're _all_ injured. Treat our dead men."

Baze snorted in acknowledgement, but Jyn gritted her teeth and said nothing. However good his point was, they couldn't...she couldn't afford to lose Cassian, or Chirrut, or any one of these people whose lives she was responsible for. 

Hell, most of them had already perished on Scarif. She couldn't fail to save the few who were truly in her hands now. 

"Bodhi?" she asked, because if the ship was here... 

"Made it," said Serchill. "Tossed out a grenade. Lost half an arm."

She couldn't help it if she felt sick to the pit of her stomach and cold, cold dread. If she felt like abandoning her fate to the universe and finding some way to be _done with it_ -

She should've died on Scarif. They all should have died when they were prepared for it, quick, less-than-easy but quick deaths on the battlefield where they wouldn't have had to suffer their injuries for long.

Baze cleared this throat. "Do we have medical supplies on this ship?"

"Melshi and his people though about that," Serchill bowed his head heavily. _Melshi and his people were gone._ "Got their hands on whatever they could. You'll find those in the cargo hold."

He started for the cockpit, not feeling he had to explain that he was getting Bodhi. 

Baze was left alone with Jyn and Chirrut and Cassian. 

Their eyes met again, and Baze could discern the very real concern Jyn Erso almost never showed- it screamed in her eyes, unbridled and unhindered, mixed with a primal fear bred from desperation. All this from her eyes, because her body language only conveyed tense and determined in the way she slowly disentangled herself from Cassian, bringing the man's head to rest back on her shoulder and loosely holding him in place at the waist. Cassian was still breathing faintly, eyes closed and unaware.

"Get the medkit," she said. Her voice cracked slightly as she added, "Please."

Baze only nodded, looking over Chirrut once before clambering down the hatch to the cargo hold. Jyn glanced to where Baze had propped his friend up in a half-seated position. The Guardian almost looked serenely asleep, but there was no missing the blood on his robes or the disturbed twitch of his brow every now and then, or the breath that barely came.

Serchill emerged with Bodhi, the pilot's good arm hooked around his neck. And in the place his other arm used to be... 

Jyn crushed her eyes shut and involuntarily tightened her grip.

_Bodhi- Bodhi of all people did not deserve this._

"Someone needs to look over the situation outside," informed Serchill, an apologetic hint to his tone. He paused a moment on his way out. "Take care of him."

Jyn felt a wave of inexplicable relief when Baze appeared again, one more living, conscious person in her vicinity. 

"I don't know much about these," he heaved a large metal case onto the middle of the floor. Jyn sat up straighter as he unlatched it. 

"What's in it?" Jyn asked, not bringing up that she didn't know a great deal, either. 

Baze picked through the case and started to lay out eveything they had. The floor around them was soon neatly littered with hypospray cans, numbing needles, pills in boxes, bacta and bandages.

_Thank you, Melshi._

"Give Chirrut a needle and those painkillers," she said, her voice sounding detached, more certain than she felt like it was another person talking. "Try to find where he's bleeding from, and wake him up. He needs to stay awake."

Baze nodded and set about the task immediately, never once questioning her knowledge. How had she earned the trust of these people over such a short frame of time?

She gingerly extracted herself from Cassian, painstakingly taking care so as not to cause him even more damage. She'd felt his broken bones grate against the back of his shirt as if there wasn't a layer of skin over them.

"Jyn," he groaned under his breath, not consciously. "The plans...Death Star..."

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "We got them. We did it. Hold on."

"He's breathing," said Baze suddenly, his breath coming out in plain relief. The Guardian had his fingers clasped around his friend's pulse. He lowered his eyes and muttered something to himself. It sounded like a prayer.

Jyn struggled to a crouch and half-crawled over to the wall against which Serchill had propped Bodhi. She couldn't afford to ignore the gory mess that had become of his right arm below the elbow, something had to be done about it, but _kriffing hell..._

He'd tied it up with what looked the trousers of his Imperial flightsuit, the black material darkened with blood. He wore a standard black bodysuit underneath.

Breathing faintly.

She threw a cursory glance in Cassian's direction, noted that he was making an effort to pull himself together and keep his eyes open, then searched through the raided medical supplies for anything that would help their pilot. She didn't know much about field medicine despite having being in the field all her life- Saw Gerrera had only taught his rebels to patch it up and deal with it, and bacta had been a luxury as far as the Partisans were concerned.

The makeshift tourniquet seemed to be doing its job, but that kind of exposure from split second resorts normally resulted in infections and the amputation of whatever that was left. She had been in the company of soldiers who told such tales.

Jyn set about replacing Bodhi's bloody bandage while Baze shook the other Guardian awake and Cassian familiarized himself with the reality of their situation.

They had cheated death...the _Death Star_ again.


	3. and the next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my friend Yumna, only because she told me to go write instead of wasting my time spamming her with pictures of myself. 
> 
> This chapter is also dedicated to those of you were patient with me and continue to read my fics- it really means a lot to me, so thank you!

"This is going to hurt," Jyn said, sounding only a little regretful. He could understand the lost look in her eyes; this, everything that was happening right now, the very fact that they had escaped within an inch of their lives, was surreal and dreamlike. He wasn't entirely sure he believed it either. 

The needle that sunk into his back only entered with one sharp prick and a dull, throbbing pain that lingered afterward. He hissed between his teeth. 

"Sorry," said Jyn at once, reflexively pulling down his shirt until where the syringe of the needle still emptied. Once it had all flowed out, she extracted the needle- _numb, unreal pain_ \- gingerly. Cassian couldn't help the soft groan that escaped him. She carefully unfolded his shirt the rest of the way down. 

"Kind of relying on you, Captain," Serchill said from his perch on one of the crew benches, beside Baze who cradled a blacked-out Chirrut and the limp, but breathing, form of Bodhi before his feet. "How long till you're coherent enough to do hyperspace calculations?"

Hyperspace calculations were normally Kay's job. 

"Easy," said Jyn, a hand on his suddenly taut knuckles.

He opened his mouth to speak, then didn't, and swallowed down a sandpaper-dry throat. His vision blurred, the tail end of his spine felt like something whacked by a heavy iron weight, and even though the painkiller spread, dulling everything, coaxing his muscles and his bones into calmness, there was nothing it could do about the very real _pain_ that charred his conscience, the regret, the grief, the hundred unnamable emotions and pains that burned deep within his soul.

Was it Kay? Was it the twenty men and women who'd followed him to Scarif and weren't returning with him now? Was it the imminent danger from the Imperial fleet that loomed over them in space? 

"Easy," repeated Jyn, as if she could hear every word screaming inside his head. Her fingers, rough skin to be expected of someone who'd served time in an Imperial labour camp, rubbed slow, soothing circles into his hands. While the painkiller numbed the sensation of his broken back, Jyn's tactic became the only thing he really _could_ feel. That and the sickening pain in his head and heart. 

He screwed his eyes shut when one of the on-board devices started beeping. The sound drilled into his brain. 

Serchill cursed viciously, striding past Jyn into the cockpit. Seconds later he emerged with a comm unit in his hand, pressed tight to his ear.

"In response to a distress signal, sir," he said. 

The colour may have drained from Jyn's face. Or maybe his eyes were going bleary. 

Serchill was still talking on the comm unit, straining to keep his voice on the right track, and to Cassian, a practiced spy- the lie was obvious. Painfully, terrifyingly _obvious._

"Medical," he was saying. "We- no, sir, we already sent what we have. Yes. Yes, like that." 

Jyn's comforting touch was gone. When he most needed it.

"I'm-" Serchill paused, listening. "Sorry, sir. We shouldn't still be here. It's- we thought we'd wait till things cleared-"

Baze kept quiet, an unusual, disconcerting silence for him. Like he, too, knew that this was all going to blow up in their faces. 

"No. Only supplies. Absolutely none, sir."

Why did _Serchill_ of all people have to be the one to answer the call?

The soldier went quiet, for a split second, mouthed a choice swear to himself, and held the comm away. 

"They're going to tractor-beam us."

Jyn was on her feet. "Then what the hell are we doing here?"

Serchill pursed his lips. "Good point."

They felt the pull of the Star Destroyer, one hard yank and then they were being dragged backwards fluidly, helpless like a dead animal trying to swim against the tide.

Cassian coughed out the only thing he could think of. "Shoot."

It wasn't Serchill who acted first. It was Jyn. She scrambled for the hatch into the hold, dropping down into it within microseconds. They heard metal slam against bone. Metal against metal. Then the U-Wing's two minimalistic undercanons lowered, turned, and released a pathetic volley in the direction of the Star Destroyer.

If the tractor beam was operating on its own accord, it would not have worked. If this particular mechanism of this particular Star Destroyer wasn't fully functional, and was being manually operated by an incompetent newbie or an idiot, they would have been released as if caught by surprise. As a matter of fact, they were.

Serchill acted then, running into the cockpit and firing up the hyperdrive before the ship even stopped jerking. The Imperial ship was big enough that only whichever idiot manually operating the tractor beam noticed, and by the time a canon turned on them, the blue streaks of hyperspace had formed in the viewports. 

They were propelled in a risk-fraught direction that the amateur hyperspace calculations chose for them just as the Star Destroyer fired a shot that would've obliterated them where they floated. 

###### 

Cassian didn't realize he'd passed out until he woke up. He'd been dazed, in his dreams. He'd been staring at the beach on Scarif, at dead rebels, at the Death Star. He woke up to hands tapping at his face. 

"Cassian," it was Jyn. "We need you to wake up. Come on."

Kriff, what the hell had happened to his _spine?_

Her face swam into focus. Baze was behind her, at her shoulder, looking like he'd just woken up from a bad rest himself. 

"Do you feel odd?" she asked. 

He managed to work his facial muscles into a frown. "What?"

She didn't address him. "Baze, can you see anything off?"

The older man snorted. "A lot of things are off with all of us, right now."

Jyn probably rolling her eyes. "Do you know what an uncalculated hyperspace jump like that can do to a person?"

"It knocked us all out," said Baze matter-of-factly. "Woke Rook up, though. Anything else it's supposed to do?"

Jyn was talking to him again, cupping his face and searching every inch of it with squinted eyes. "It could...turn you into something else, or...I don't know, that's what I've heard- Cassian, are you up?"

He blinked. Uncalculated jump...kriffing _hell_.

Jyn pulled back as he urgently patted himself down, hoping to all hope that nothing was missing or as it shouldn't be. After a quick run-through he let himself relax. He was more or less actually awake, now. 

"I need to get to Serchill," he said, making an effort to push himself off the floor. "He needs to know when to pull us out."

"Baze," said Jyn, and the Guardian didn't even have to hear the question. 

Cassian didn't protest beyond a pained grunt as Baze hauled him bodily off the floor, his feet nearly not touching the ground as he was lead towards the cockpit. He had the presence of mind to register Bodhi Rook, sitting on one of the benches and nursing a bloody arm wrapped in black cloth with two numbing needles pushed through it, looking like a man who'd just faced down the Imperial guard. Chirrut, from what he could tell, was either asleep or dead on the bench opposite. 

_Please be asleep._

Cassian wasn't used to holding onto hope for things that were well and truly beyond his control. He wasn't in the habit of looking at dead bodies or remembering faces from the past and thinking they could still be alive. But too many people who deserved better than him had died on Scarif. His should be the body on the bench, or on the beach, or at the bottom of the data vault.

The memory brought a sharp stab of pain up his back. He screwed his eyes shut. Not the bottom of the data vault. Cassian had worked on his own for most of his life, but between dying alone and dying with a familiar face close enough, he would chose better than he deserved. Jyn was not explicitly known to him. What he knew of her past was from half-complete intel and calculated speculation.

But she'd brought something new to the rebellion, to him. She'd shown the galaxy it had a fighting chance, and when those in higher places had refused to take that chance she hadn't backed down. The galaxy had thrown cruel things her way, from the loss of her parents, to Saw's abandonment, to Wobani, to all the people she might have lost in between. But she hadn't backed down. 

Jyn Erso represented the fire of rebellion. It would have been an honour to die by her side on the beach on Scarif. 

Baze set him down just at the doorway, and he summoned every bit of strength he had left to grab the wall and haul himself into the cockpit. Jyn watched him deny the ache in his back and bones to get through the entrance and disappear from sight. 

She stood up, relocated to the space beside Bodhi on the bench he occupied.

"How are you holding up?" She asked, even though the words twisted her tongue, even though there were no words she knew that merited the situation. Between Chirrut's lifeless body and the gentle whirring of the engine, silence would drive her mad if it reigned.

Bodhi blinked to recover his senses, and it only took a couple of rapid flutters of his eyes for her to notice how wet they were, and then for tears to slowly, slowly make streaks in the dirt that covered his face. 

She didn't know what to say. 

With the Partisans, shedding actual tears had been a sign of weakness, something that screamed you weren't ready for the rebellion yet. If you were lucky you'd get a few guffaws, maybe an awkward pat from the rare soldier who understood. Or you'd get a solid grilling and you wouldn't be able to show your face the next day. In her first weeks, an eightyear old who'd just lost everything, she had cried a lot. But she'd been in the relatively safe confines of the room Saw had given her, and by the time his contacts had started pouring in she had already been given the lecture about showing weakness, and most importantly, showing who she was.

"'M fine," mumbled Bodhi, the fingers of his undamaged hand twitching in his lap. He could go into shock, she realized. He could get an infection and he wouldn't last for long after that. Jyn was no expert in field medicine, but she was quite certain you didn't just wake up after you passed out by having your forearm exploded. Maybe it was a result of the risky hyperspace jump. Maybe the jump had other results, and they hadn't discovered them yet.

"You're not," she said, surprising herself. She sighed, shaking her head. Too many questions, too many complications. "Look, I don't...I don't know if I did the right thing, so...are the needles helping?"

Bodhi looked at her, unfocused like he couldn't see her at all, finally blinking after a few breaths. He shivered visibly. "Y-Yeah. Yeah. They're...good."

Baze dropped down to the floor in front of Chirrut. He looked like he'd aged a decade in the space of minutes.

"You know your medicine," he stated, sounding more tired than impressed.

"No, I just..." Jyn ran a hand through her hair. Sweat and grime. Dried blood. "Read the labels. That's all."

"Can't read Basic," grunted Baze, leaning back against the bench. "Not well enough to understand that jargon, anyway. Were you a student for very long?"

Jyn frowned, slightly. "What?"

Baze waved it away nonchalantly. "Someone would have taught you. It's not my business, anyway. Just grateful you've had an education."

She looked down at her hands. Calloused and marred from working in Wobani, bloodstained from fighting on Scarif. She'd abandoned the gloves a while ago. 

"I know," was all she said in response to that. 

Beside her, Bodhi shivered. Was shivering expected of his condition? Was it the fluid in the needles taking effect? He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his good hand. The tears still came. His shoulders started to rack with inaudible sobs. 

Wordlessly, Jyn reached an arm out and allowed him to lean against it. She let him draw closer and bury his face in her shoulder. She dropped her eyes to the ground while he cried into her shirtsleeve.

She should be doing the same. She'd recently lost...no, she'd lost everything a long time ago. 

Recently, she'd won.

But if it was a victory, why the hell did she feel so damn _empty?_

_Your father would be proud of you, Jyn._

She hoped. She hoped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are _love!_
> 
> Also, [a drawing of my second favourite space siblings reacting to their medal ceremonies after Scarif.](https://hoofgirl.tumblr.com/post/168818070742/for-the-anniversary-week-which-i-missed-because)


	4. until we've won

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _did_ invest in a copy of Star Wars: The Ultimate Visual Guide some time ago, but I'm a lazy reader and haven't really, uh, learnt anything. So the planet Marlika is entirely of my own creation. 
> 
> I was about to buy the R1 visual guide as well- Bodhi looks SO GOOD in his page, bless my Pure TM pilot boi- but I kinda sort of ran out of money. Yeah. I'm beyond saving. 
> 
> Also, according to Wookiepedia the "groundcar" is an actual SW vehicle. It's basically a car. Cars exist in the Star Wars universe and this is useful information.

"The good news," Cassian leaned back from the dashboard display, which he'd been reading for several heavy, silent minutes. "Is that we're not on our way to uncharted territory. There are a couple of places we can pull out through."

Serchill didn't ask _and the bad news?_

"Unfortunately we're running dangerously low on fuel and will have to make a stop in the right system, find someplace we can do something about it. Communicating with Base at this juncture is a risk because we could have Imperials on our tail, so as of now, we're completely on our own."

Serchill restlessly rapped at his armrest. "We need to get Rook and the other guardian some pretty impressive medical care if they're going to pull through."

His eyes bore into Cassian's skull, asking a dozen questions without asking anything at all. 

Cassian had made his decision, anyway. 

"Wherever we make a stop, I'll call in favours if I have contacts. I'll make new contacts if I have to. We'll do what we must to ensure they're alright until Base can really help them."

"You think it works like that?" Serchill asked. "Is that possible?"

"I've seen it done before," muttered Cassian, glaring into the blue tunnel of hyperspace that zoomed towards them in the viewport. "I won't...lose any more people on my account. Not today."

Serchill settled back against the pilot's seat, gathering his hands under his head. He closed his eyes. Didn't sleep, but closed his eyes like a man who was trying not to think about anything.

"Dying would've been easier," he murmured under his breath. 

Cassian didn't acknowledge that. He didn't disagree either. 

###### 

Chirrut Îmwe hummed to himself as he slept. His eyes saw nothing- not that that was anything new- but every other sense tingled in warning and anticipation and excitement as that _nothing_ surrounded him, engulfed him, sang to him. He hummed back in response. 

Nothing, or the Force that moved between all living things, balanced life and death? 

_Ah,_ thought Chirrut. He was balancing on the fine line between life and death, then. 

He considered his options. While it was quite the surprise to find himself conscious to his thoughts, it was also a surprise to feel anything at all. If he felt things that were external, it meant his material body still existed. If he felt _through_ his body, it meant he was alive. He was holding onto life. 

Life was nice, he thought, but over the past week his life had taken a turn in a completely unexpected direction, and he'd been propelled into the heart of a fight that he'd only fought on the fringes before. Jedha had been destroyed. The Khyber temples were gone, and he was a Guardian with nothing left to protect. 

_Nothing at all?_

Chirrut almost felt his material body smile. On Scarif he'd protected something. An ideology, hope, a handful of people. Baze. Baze had, in turn, if he remembered correctly, also protected him. 

At this juncture, Chirrut wondered if it would be best to become one with the Force or to continue protecting those things he had left. It wasn't really his decision to make, of course; he had no control over his fate. But supposing he had a say in it, where would he want to be? 

He imagined Baze saying something like, _I didn't haul your heavy ass out of the line of fire just for you to die like this, inconsiderate fool._

He recalled Jyn's slight, flitting, cautious smile. The way she clutched her Khyber crystal and muttered prayers without realizing she was doing it.

He remembered the broken Jedhan pilot, his fear, his loyalty and bravery. Choosing to trudge forward into the heart of the battle, like him, and he thought of Captain Andor and the prison he carried everywhere.

It wasn't a great number of things, but they were important things, enough to warrant a Guardian. If it was his choice and he was going to be snatched away from those things, he decided he wouldn't give consent to fate. 

###### 

Jyn was put on alert the moment she felt the telltale jostle of exiting hyperspace. 

"Are we good?" She asked, emerging into the cockpit, keeping any nervous strain forcefully out of her voice. Her doubt was still evident in the way her muscles twitched, the dryness of her tone and the crease between her brows. 

"We're going to touch down on Marlika," replied Serchill, from where he was flicking switches on the dashboard. He didn't do it with the same professional ease she'd seen Bodhi or K-2SO employ. "That's a good thing. Cassian has a contact. But on the other hand it looks like there's a storm in atmo."

Jyn frowned, leaning forward. Sure enough, over the dark blue planet's surface, an even darker swirl of clouds had gathered and twisted threateningly. 

"There's land, I hope," she commented wryly. 

"Most of what you see is land," said Cassian, with a minute tug at his lips. "The soil on Marlika is black, as are the beaches, and there are planes of blue rock that cover most of its surface. The lighter colours are the seas." He pointed when he said this. 

Jyn held the back of his seat and took a closer look.

"No green at all?" she asked. 

"Not enough to see from space," Cassian shrugged. "There used to be, a long time ago. But there was a strong Imperial presence on the planet for eight years and during that time the planet turned into a mining location. The Empire stripped it dry of whatever it had to offer. Two years ago the mines became completely exhausted and the Empire pulled out of it. They don't pay a lot of attention to Marlika now, so the locals are rebuilding, but there's still a strong Imperial enforcement system in practice and any small-scale overthrow attempt is crushed within days."

Her grip on the seat tightened. "Doesn't sound like a nice place to be. I hope we're getting out of there as soon as possible."

"As soon as we refuel," Cassian looked into the storm. "And get Bodhi and Chirrut in better shape. Those things can be done through my alias and the contact I have down there, but anyone else planning on stepping out of this ship is going to need fake scandocs."

"I can do that," said Jyn, several _hows_ and _maybes_ formulating in her mind. She couldn't make clever fakes from scratch, but she could get it done if she had the things she needed. 

Cassian's eyes flickered back to regard her for one, two seconds. "Then that's one less thing I need to rely on my contact for. I'll bring back the things you need. You'll only have to prepare them for Chirrut and Bodhi."

Jyn could feel a frown coming on. "The Imperial presence on this planet is enough to crush a local rebellion in days, and you're going to go out there alone with a contact and two injured men? I mean...how much can you trust this contact of yours? You're...and you're also injured. Badly. You can't do this on your own."

"She's got a point," said Serchill. "I don't think you can even walk."

Cassian treated him to a brief warning look before addressing Jyn, calmly, "I accept that I'm not in a good condition, but none of this will happen if I don't go."

"I _know_ that," scowled Jyn. "I'm not saying you shouldn't go, I'm saying you need either me, Serchill or Baze with you when you do. Someone who can fight if things go wrong. Better yet, all three of us."

She didn't hold his gaze for long after that. Because he looked at her the same way he had in the turbolift on Scarif, as if he would kill anyone who hurt her. As if he'd kill anyone who so much as tried. As if he would protect her at the cost of his life, and as if he...

"I don't want to risk you," he said. "Any of you."

"You're not risking _us_ , you're risking your own damn self," Jyn crossed her arms tightly, meeting his eyes again so he'd catch the full effect of her glare. He still remained unperturbed. "By doing this. It's...it's tactically-"

"Unsound," said Serchill. 

"Idiotic," concluded Jyn with a flourish of her hand.

Cassian stared them both down for all of five seconds. He gave in because he'd known all along that they were right, and he'd only been stubbornly, foolishly telling himself that this could be done with a minimum risk of casualties as possible. 

"Serchill, stay with the ship," he said at last, relenting. "Jyn, you and Baze can come with me, but something has to be done about..." He stopped. "Something has to be done about what the Guardians are wearing. We can't afford for anyone to identify them as Jedhan."

"You have enough credits to amend that?" Jyn asked humourlessly. 

"My contact- her name is Nesra- will help with that as well as the materials for scandocs. I'll come back with everything we need and then you can join me."

Jyn pursed her lips. "You trust her enough for that?"

Cassian answered coolly. "I wouldn't hinge so much on her help if I had doubts."

She pretended to consider this for a moment. Then, "I'm coming with you on the first trip anyway."

Cassian almost rolled his eyes. "I said-"

"Can Nesra defend you if you're attacked?" Jyn asked sarcastically.

Halfway into the leaden stretch of silence that hung in the air between them, Serchill held a hand over his mouth and covered a chuckle. 

They both turned to glare at him, but he raised a teasing eyebrow at Cassian.

"Get what's happening, Captain? I think you've finally met your match."

Cassian shook his head, turning back to the viewport. "Get us down there, Serchill."

The half-proficient pilot wrapped his hands around the steering, playfulness forgotten, eyeing the storm clouds with distrust. "Aye, Captain Andor," he muttered, hoping his lack of skill wouldn't get them all killed before the plan could even take shape.

###### 

Marlika was a cold and damp place during the best times of the year, and a rainy hell of dangerous trenches and frostbite during the worst. Now happened to be the transition period in between the two; while the planet's many natural trenches had yet to deceivingly fill up, the rains were starting to hit but not yet at full force. It wasn't a relatively busy time for anyone who'd had the foresight to prepare for the winter during summer, but any inhabitant who hadn't was left floundering and panicking with last-minute resorts to save their houses and estates from the brutal two months that were coming soon.

Vallei was the industrial district's biggest cantina, and a place that earned so much out of its Spice sales and covert 'hookup services' that the planet's Imperial authority allowed it to function with little to no interference. An establishment reaping a high income meant a greater inflow of tax money, and after Marlika had lost its main source of income two years previously they would have anything that served the purpose. 

Discipline was still strict and implemented with force wherever necessary. No one on Marlika was allowed to complain or ask for more, at least not in a way that blocked the traffic or gave additional work for the stormtroopers.

"No, darling, you're not getting my meaning," the Volpai drawled. "What exactly do you _do_ for ImportsCo?"

Nesra kept smiling her most charming smile. This one was harder to get words out of than the average single male looking for company and willing to spill a few Imperial secrets to get it. No matter, though; she only had to invest in another glass. "I already told you, just paperwork for imports. Spice and other things, occasionally." Under the table, she discreetly set a hand on his knee. "It's boring work. Where the crates are going, who's taking them, what time they're packed and what time they're deployed- it needs me to be alert all the time, of course, but it's..."

One of his clammy hands found hers. "Boring?" he raised his eyebrows - _very obviously_ \- suggestively.

Nesra leaned forward across the table. "It's why I'm a Vallei regular."

The Volpai's lips twitched. "Is that so, sweetheart? I wonder what you're...regularly up to here, hm?"

Nesra pouted, the full colour of her painted lips showing. Today she wore burgundy lipstick and a black dress cut at enough places to interest the average overworked Imperial contractor. Her dark skin almost glittered richly- some of it because of makeup, some of it because of her roots- and her hair was cut close to the ear with a short fringe. Silver earrings gleamed from her sides.

"I'm sure it's more excitement than what you spend the whole day doing," she traced lazy circles on his hand under the table. She was getting to him. It was annoying, but she was getting to him. "What do they get you to do, drop into the mines and salvage what's left?"

The supposition had hurt his pride. It showed clearly in the way his brows drew together, defensive, but defiant. "I'm more important than that."

She reared back a little, pretending to be surprised. "Oh, I'm...I'm sorry, Hert. I didn't mean..."

He took her hand again, this time over the table with another one of his four hands, and gave her a grin so sickeningly sweet that she felt she'd fist his face and leave if she wasn't expecting some good information. "Of course, sweetheart, of course. Civilians are told so little about us mysterious contractors, aren't they?"

Nesra giggled in a manner she found nauseating. The intel had better be worth every second she spent in the man's company. "I'm sorry, but we're used to thinking the contractors are called to salvage the mines."

"Not entirely untrue," the Volpai sighed. "But darling, we don't _salvage._ We _induce._ "

Internally, she frowned, not liking the sound of that. Outwardly she played confused date. "Induce, Hert?"

"I can't tell you much," Hert smiled that sappy smile of his again, wagging a finger. "But between the two of us, the Empire may have found a way to get Marlika back on its feet again."

_More like down on its knees at gunpoint._

Nesra widened her eyes. They were brown, like her mother's, common on her home planet of Fest but rarer on planets in Marlika's Belt. "There is hope for us?"

"Yes. And bigger than the last mines. These materials are going into Imperial ships, new designs, into the reinforcements." He grinned out of the corner of his mouth. A golden tooth stuck out, glinting in the cantina's lights. "Their scientists believe it would take the entirety of an average rebel fleet to even dent a small portion of a ship made of this."

_Fark._

"Really?" She leaned forward with renewed interest, even though something sick twisted in gut at the thought of a non-human choosing the Empire as his side. Or even choosing to ignore the Empire's misdeeds and help it because it payed better, convincing himself that he wasn't involving in the war at all. "Is that possible?"

The Volpai winked. Nesra noted that he'd downed another glass. "The galaxy's full of natural wonders, sweetheart. Marlika's Belt is the only place in it currently known to have this...well, where these materials can be grown. Isn't my work important, Nessie?"

Like hell she gave any of these people her real name. Normally by the one and a half hour juncture the person she was talking to got too drunk to give anything useful, and she let it happen so she could slip away without having to pay the price. She'd lead the man one of a dozen rooms left open for Vallei's paying customers, arrange things up, made sure he was out cold and snoring, and left leaving only the trace of a faceless girl from the cantina with which he'd apparently had a great night.

One and a half hours were past, this cockeyed Imperial contractor was done with his third drink but in considerable control of his senses, and she didn't like the direction in which this deal was going. 

Was the information worth it? 

Yes, it was worth every second she'd spent trying to coax it out of him. But it wasn't worth- nothing was worth- going a step beyond that.

She knew. This wasn't the kind of man you could easily escape from. 

"Yes," she smiled, slowly, getting in an effect. "Yes, it is."

She couldn't use it yet, but her fingers twitched on the miniscule electric shock device clipped to a strap on her thigh. 

The Volpai was closer now, two hands keeping her one on the table firmly held down, and she told herself it was for the rebellion-

And her commlink buzzed. 

"Ah, sorry," she said apologetically as he drew away. "That could be...hold on."

She snapped open her clutch bag and found the device. Pressed it into her ear, just in case. 

" _That night the predators had grass._ "

If she'd _expected_ the comm call, she would've chuckled at their odd and unconventional code phrase which she'd coined after a particularly memorable bad experience- but she wasn't expecting to hear the code this time. Her friend and ally didn't pull surprises like this. 

The Volpai's eyes were hungrily trained on her still. She only spared him a glance. She had to respond to the caller. 

"It's my boss," she told the Imperial contractor. "It's...it's an emergency. A whole shipment's gone missing and this is...this is on my account." She slid out of her seat, calling on her every acting skill to look apologetic and afraid. "I'm sorry. I have to go. They'll...I'll lose my job, this can't happen, I...I have to go."

The Volpai slid out of his own seat, though not nearly as smoothly, and stood unsteadily like the alcohol had seeped into his system. "You need my help, sweetheart?"

"Later," she said, already shuffling away, a common civilian about to be grilled by her superiors for a mistake at her workplace. "I'll see you later. I have to go."

There was too much of crowd in the cantina. Nighttime was busy, particularly now, and more crowds were cramming in. The entrance was completely blocked from view. There was static in her commlink, and she terminated it.

"Kriff," she muttered under her breath as she caught sight of the door only to have it disappear behind a sea of heads again. 

A hand suddenly yanked at her wrist and pulled her back. Every muscle in her body froze, then heated up to fight. Her free hand went for the shocker on her thigh-

"Move, you bastards," the Volpai was guiding her through the crowds, and with his additional arms he managed to clear a considerable path for them. Most people jumped out of the way, some were shoved aside. She was hauled out through the double doors and past the crowds at the entrance before she knew it. 

She pulled her hand out of his and tapped at her commlink again. She'd lost the signal. Shavit. It was raining outside, heavily, and she was already drenched.

"I can take you-"

"No," she shook her head furiously. "No, I'm about to lose my kriffing job, I can't turn up with my _date._ How's that going to look, Hert?"

There were transports on the streets, a lot of them, most occupied. She waved frantically to hail one. 

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Hert asked, after she yanked open the door and scrabbled in.

She pulled the door back from where he held it open. 

"If I get my last paycheck," she spat, slamming it shut. "Towards Tekola," she told the driver, who started to make a comment about her drenched state, then decided against it, and pulled slowly away from Vallei.

When she could no longer see the Volpai from the rear window, Nesra leaned back against her seat and exhaled loudly. 

She couldn't believe she'd acted well enough to remove herself from that situation. None of that would've been possible without the call. 

She rubbed her commlink on the fabric seat, clearing it of water. It still cackled static. Still worked.

_That night the predators had grass._

"Avoid the traffic," she told the driver.

"No need to say it, madame," he responded with a sarcastic flair. 

Nesra leaned further back into her seat, closing her eyes. Black kohl smudged around her eyes from when the rain had hit.

There was only one person who used that phrase to contact her, but she hadn't been expecting him at all. She hoped it wasn't a dire situation. 

###### 

Serchill listened in silence as Jyn and Cassian spent exactly ten minutes and twenty-one seconds arguing about the plan they would follow after a considerably rough landing that had shaken every one of them. He wished, a little childishly, that he had someone to make bets with- he would have earned some credits because, as predicted, Jyn was the one to get her way in the end. 

"There's no way you could've won that one," he told Cassian as he passed him out of the cockpit. 

Cassian narrowed his eyes, but couldn't look very intimidating leaning heavily on one leg and pressing a palm tightly to the wall for support.

"Tactically idiotic," he reminded, and the Captain just appeared exasperated. He clapped him on the shoulder before leaving. 

Jyn was rummaging through a hatch compartment when he walked- _staggered_ -into the common area. She found a blaster and two knives. Strapped the latter to her belt and turned the former over in her hands, inspecting it. Baze watched from beside Chirrut's sleeping form. 

_Chirrut is alive._

"There might be a reason that blaster got left behind," said Baze gruffly.

"It works," said Jyn, after another second reading it. She got to her feet, offering it to the Guardian. "In case you need to protect the ship."

Baze picked it from her hands, but slowly, like he didn't trust the thing not to explode in his fingers. He ran his eyes over it. Handed it back to Jyn. "You're going to need this more."

"We don't plan on getting into firefights," said Cassian.

"We have a plan?" Baze asked. 

"We do," said Cassian, taking more steps forward. He let go of the wall at one point. Stood by himself, but with deliberate effort. "Jyn and I are going to meet someone and forge scandocs. Then we can refuel, get Bodhi and Chirrut medical attention, and leave this planet as soon as possible."

Baze regarded him for a short eternity. 

"I like the sound of that," he said, and didn't ask questions. 

Cassian had trudged halfway to the exit, using the ship's on-board comm to contact his ally, when he noticed Jyn stop by at Bodhi's side. The pilot looked very much alive, and conscious, but...unresponsive. 

"It'll be fine," she told him quietly, placing her hands on his shoulders. "We're going to get help, alright?"

Impossibly, he heard her and nodded rapidly in response. His eyes were wide, unfocused. 

"You'll be fine," said Jyn and, after only a moment's hesitation, smoothed his matted hair down and kissed the top of his head. 

"O-Okay," he stammered. Still wild, unfocused, but possibly a little better.

She was at his shoulder by the time he managed to rip his gaze away.

"Did you reach your contact?" she asked plainly.

"Sent a message," answered Cassian. "She might have already heard it, might have not. There's one place she's always fine with meeting in."

"And we're going to go there?"

"If we make it past the Imperial security post without scandocs," said Cassian dryly. "We'll get there." 

They trudged down the freighter's ramp, into the heavy rain and half-flooded rock floor. The planet's surface was mainly hues of blue, and with the rain and occasional streak of lighting that ripped the sky Jyn couldn't help but be reminded of Eadu. 

_That's the past. That's the kriffing past._

"This way," said Cassian, calling her out of her thoughts. She couldn't figure out how he was standing upright without help. Was it determination or was he feeling much better? "Keep to the dune cover. We'll avoid getting drenched somewhat."

The landscape before them was desolate and empty but alight with the fumes of industry. These had until recently been mining lands. There was nothing now but dead soil and tainted air that hissed as the rain fell past it.

This was a little beyond the outskirts of town, according to Cassian, and there weren't any regulations against making a landing in the barren plains. Security was maintained by the Imperial outposts all around the populated part of the district. You didn't get past the outposts without identification. 

"How were you going to do it?" Jyn asked suddenly. 

Cassian looked back at her, already significantly soaked like she was. "Do what?"

She gestured. "You aren't exactly carrying scandocs on your person either. How were you planning on getting in?"

"It's..." he closed his eyes, wiped water off his face. The rain battered down on them regardless. She wondered if this wouldn't induce new problems with their health. "It's what we're going to do now. Follow my lead, and..." He stepped further into the shadow of a dune, keeping the rain off his shoulders. She stepped in after him. Not every dune was big enough to shield them, but it was nice not to be exposed to the spitting shower for a few moments. "Be careful, Jyn."

"Is that why you didn't want me to come?" she asked blandly. 

He didn't meet her eyes. Maybe it was because of the rain and darkness, maybe he deliberately avoided them. He still managed to make it look natural, like he hadn't even heard her.

"Cassian," called Jyn, just when he was about to leave their cover to trudge forward in the rain. 

He turned back, looking only mildly inquisitive. "Yes?"

Her fingers were shivering inside the fists she'd curled them into. The air was cold and poisonous. "You don't have to protect me like some child."

His expression changed, for a split second, then went back to the neutral, unreadable look of before. "I don't have to risk your life either."

She stepped closer. Now there was silent fury in her eyes, even though his were still calm, neutral. "We're not going to get anything done if we don't take risks. That's what..." She shook her head, rapidly, tamping the anger in her voice. "That's what Scarif was all about, that's what we did on Scarif. You saved my life. I watched your back. I don't care what order of business you're used to, but we're a team now and you're going to have to rely on me just as you want me to rely on you."

_We're a team. We got the plans because we were a team. The mission isn't over yet. We're in this together until it is._

"We're in this together," Jyn said, voicing his thoughts. Her voice dropped but didn't lose its sway. "And we're equals. For now."

Cassian regarded her in silence for several long, drawn-out moments, a time that stretched on for eternities. In this time her anger died down, her breath slowed, and she calmed herself. For whatever that was coming next. 

"There's a break in the security outposts up North, not very far from here," he said at last, in a quieter tone than before. Nodded in said direction. "An abandoned entry point, because radiation levels are high in the vicinity. We can bypass it easily, but not stick around for long. My contact will meet us before the closest security checkpoint beyond that- she'll come with the scandocs for my alias. You'll have to keep yourself hidden at the checkpoint."

Jyn gazed in the Northern direction, allowing her eyes to better adjust to seeing through the sheets of rain. She could distinctly make out lights gleaming in the darkness, far away.

"Let's do this," she said. 

###### 

Their trek towards the abandoned outpost was made difficult by the darkness, slippery rock, spitting rain and the fumes of old industry that grew stronger and sharper as they neared. Not all of the plain was smooth- in some places it slanted upwards, sometimes downwards, and sometimes even opened up to dark, natural trenches that dropped into pitch-black nothingness. More than once they'd had to forcibly slow their pace to avoid skidding or, worse, sliding into boulders or trenches. The plains were flooding up to the heels of their boots.

The rain burnt. It wasn't just because of the speeds with which it fell, it was also on account of the toxic gases with which it mixed before hitting them. The journey wasn't easy by anyone's standards, and Cassian knew he shouldn't be walking in the first place. 

Occasionally, where the rock dissolved and there were treacherous dents in the ground, Jyn would step into one and he'd have to help her clamber out. He would be making the same mistake if he wasn't walking so damn cautiously and watching the ground with a warier eye than usual. He'd hold back a wince at the weight when Jyn grabbed his offered hand to haul out of a patch in the rock surface. She would keep her grip until she fully regained her balance, and let go slowly with an apology for the trouble. From time to time she offered help with walking and each time time he declined. She stopped asking after the third time.

They walked through the shallow floods and the rain in a direction he knew, roughly, to be correct. 

Sometimes he'd look up from the path and at her face, or her profile, or whatever the rain and darkness allowed. Not once did her mask of absolute determination slip, not once did the rain douse the fire in her eyes. 

_We're equals. For now._

She was higher than him in every way. He would accept her as his leader. He'd follow her every word like a subordinate, not an equal, if he wasn't hung up on giving her every protection he could. If he wasn't content to fight by her side, although he'd fight under her if she called for it.

_Get a kriffing grip, Andor, you're starting to sound like some devoted idiot._

His thought processes froze for a second. 

_An idiot,_ he corrected himself. _Concentrate, damn you._

He could faintly make out the shape of a wall, a barbed wire fence sewn over it. Lights that didn't work. Their outpost. 

"This way," he said, and she followed him.

The rain had lessened over the past few minutes, but the water that touched bare skin still burnt and their wet clothes smelt like the air around them; radiated, toxic. This kind of exposure could kill them both over a period of two days. 

There was a rusted gate with a lock already broken, and Cassian pushed it open with a loud creak as it rotated back on its hinges. They climbed the winding steps into a squat observation hut that sat on the wall.

Jyn hugged her arms around her shoulders. Everything burned. 

Cassian tapped his commlink.

"Nesra, come in."

Jyn couldn't hear the person on the other end, but there was definitely a response. 

"No identification," said Cassian. "I can't make it to Tekola."

She wiped water off her face. Her skin felt heated, dry. 

"Location Six. Usual place. I have company."

Should she take off her jacket? The water wasn't good. It burned and smelt strong. But one less item of clothing would expose more skin to the elements. 

"I know. I know. That's up to how long you take. I-yes, Nesra. Always. You too."

Jyn looked at him when he put down his commlink. 

"We'll head out when the rain stops. It's not a big distance, and she'll be there by then."

The rain was already coughing to a stop. From the window of the observation hut they could see the landscape they'd trekked stretched out before them, vast and blue and glimmering in the light of the planet's two moons. 

They drifted into a strangely comfortable non-conversation, Jyn staring out at the scene and Cassian trying to follow suit. 

There was a lot to avoid thinking about. 

The absence of Kaytuesso's voice not far behind, making some badly-timed remark or commenting about the statistical inadvisability of the thing he was about to do reminded him of more than his longtime partner.

_Tonc. Arro. Sefla. Pao. Melshi._

The Death Star. The plans reaching the rebellion.

Scarif. Climbing the data tower, then climbing it again. Shooting the Imperial in white. Dying beside Jyn on the beach. 

Cassian drew in a shuddering breath as the ache in his back weighed heavily on his feet. 

"Rain's stopped," said Jyn suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. It only took a second to compose himself.

"Let's go," he said, and reached out to hold the railings for the climb down. 

###### 

Nesra had had herself dropped at her doorstep, then wasted no time in getting into her own four-seater groundcar and driving towards the decomissioned Tekola outpost. Hers was one of several vehicles headed in the general direction, and she'd got past the checkpoint with a flash of her legitimate identification. Once the checkpoint was far enough behind her, she deviated from the ordinary flow of traffic and drove towards the radiation zone. 

She stopped halfway through, isolated in a corner of the unused road. She restlessly tapped the steering wheel and waited. 

The Imperial authorities had been highly cautious about the industrial district's security when the mines had been in working order- hence the security outposts established along the its borders and the wall built around it. But over the past two years that interest had faded; now the bigger threat was the civilian body starting to express ideas of rebellion. If she was lucky, if no special attention was paid today, she would not get caught for driving into a restricted area.

_Or any of the rules I'm breaking by doing this._

Nesra spent ten minutes in terse anticipation, her eyes never once leaving the road, before she finally caught sight of two figures- _definitely not stormtroopers_ \- approaching. 

She drove towards them and slowed to a stop when near enough. Cassian opened the rear door first- she looked back, surprised- and ushered in a girl, also human, before he walked around to her passenger seat.

"You don't look well," breathed Nesra, catching a glimpse of him, her fingers tightening around the wheel. "Shit."

"Radiation," said Cassian simply, leaning back against the seat. "Let's hurry up."

She turned the transport around and headed back the way she'd come without wasting time. 

Cassian turned to the person in the back, who was eerily quiet. "Keep your head down when we get close to the checkpoint. It's not far from here."

"Brought yours," said Nesra, nodding towards the seat. Cassian pulled out a file from underneath and went through the scandocs. 

"Why did you use _this_ picture?"

She almost laughed at his exasperation. "Because you looked kind of cute."

Cassian sighed. He wasn't angry, but definitely going to lecture her later about taking unnecessary risks. "I'm about eight years younger in it, and there's a chance they won't believe it's the same person at the checkpoint. Where did you even find this?"

Nesra changed the subject. "What's your name?" she asked the girl in the back.

It took a couple of heartbeats for an answer.

"Jyn," replied a neutral voice.

"I'm Nesra," she kept her eyes on the road, and eventually, Cassian looked ahead as well. She grabbed the scandocs off his lap before he could stop her, dropping them over to the backseat. "That's Cassian when he was eighteen. Isn't he adorable?"

Cassian rubbed his forehead tiredly, not surprised at all. "Jyn, don't take her seriously."

Surprising him, though, a small laugh broke out from behind.

"You didn't have a beard," Jyn said, a smile in her voice. 

Nesra didn't miss the quiet murderous look Cassian gave her before responding to Jyn, casually, "No, I didn't."

Jyn handed the scandocs back to him. They couldn't quite see her face, but Nesra could picture a devious grin as she commented, "Cute."

Cassian's face betrayed nothing. 

"Thank you."

Nesra decided to ask him more about Jyn later as they sped towards Tekola.


	5. or all the chances are spent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and a team is only as good as its Captain.

Nesra's house was small, crammed and modest, with a space bigger than her living room set out at the back for her groundcar. Despite the rain falling in this part of the city not being highly acidic and burning, Jyn avoided it as best as she could before reaching the safety of four walls and a roof. The other woman closed the door behind them and locked it.

Cassian shrugged his jacket off and went further into the house, disappearing into a room with a narrow doorway. She sat down on a hard wooden chair and noted that he knew his way around the place well.

She almost jumped when Nesra sat at the round table across from her. She wasn't in her senses. Her lungs were on fire and her skin felt blistering, like its outermost layer was about to peel off in pieces. Her hair stuck uncomfortably to her scalp. Hurriedly, she reached behind her head and pulled it out of its bun.

"Hey," Nesra said, not unkindly. She sounded just a bit friendly and a whole lot more concerned. "You should get out of those clothes. Probably never wear them again. A cold shower might do you good."

Jyn snapped herself into focus. "What? Oh. Yes. Sorry, you're right. I'm going to-" She staggered to her feet, wondering how the pain had got so much worse instead of getting better. "Where do I go?"

"Cassian just went in, I think," said Nesra, tilting her head towards the narrow doorway, but it was at that moment Cassian walked out from under it, jacket and shirt gone, and he paused before them a moment.

"Jyn, come on," he said, beckoning her in that direction.

Jyn had a couple of questions, but it was instantly clear to her where they were going when Nesra nodded. "Okay," she said. "Right behind you." 

She followed him back the way he'd come. They passed a tiny kitchenette before reaching what looked like the door to a refresher. Cassian's shirt and jacket had been discarded into a basket on the floor, and for a split second she wondered why he then chose to stand there and objectively keep his gaze trained on the floor.

Jyn rolled her eyes, but suppressed the urge to snort. She appreciated the gesture, even if it was highly unnecessary in her current state of anguish and all that really mattered at the moment was how fast she could get under that sonic.

Jyn pulled her shirt over her head and shucked it into the same basket, and shrugged off her trousers next. It scorched where the material touched her skin and it felt like relief when it no longer made contact. She'd already decided she'd take off her innerwear once she got inside and closed the door, but a realisation hit her and she looked at Cassian. 

"You didn't go in yet?"

He sighed exasperatedly like he'd been expecting this. "No, but I'll be fine. I'll get you some clothes from Nesra and wait here till you're done." 

Jyn narrowed her eyes. "You got drenched in the rain." 

Cassian may have twitched his lips a little in a barely-perceptible smirk. "Maybe, but I didn't also fall into about six trenches along the way." 

She turned on him, scowling. It didn't occur to her that there was a limit as to how intimidating she could look in her breastband and briefs. Then again, it didn't occur to her at all that she wasn't wearing much. "You're going in first."

Cassian shook his head. "Look, Jyn, I can wait it out, it's fine-"

"You're more injured than I am," cut in Jyn. "A few hours ago you were struggling to _walk_. You know who it'll help if you go back to that state? _None of us._ "

He muttered a curse in some other language under his breath. Her trump card had played well. "You're not saving us any time by arguing with me," he said instead, to her annoyance.

"I'm going in, then," she snapped, pushing open the door and stepping inside. "Feel free to stand there and let this poison eat the skin off your bones. You'll join in if you know what's best for you."

Jyn shut the door and turned towards the sonic's controls. She turned down the temperature are far as it could go and stepped back while the spray still adjusted to her settings. The refresher, she noted with slight appreciation, was somewhat bigger than the rest of the house's rooms. If Cassain wasn't trying to play the selfless gentleman, they could've taken turns and both been put out of their misery.

Jyn was used to living a life on the run. She was good at it, in fact, and she'd learnt one or two lessons along the way; some of them were practical life skills, like how to hotwire a piece of old circuitry for warmth, or fix back the soles of your boots if they broke. But others, and the ones she held closer to the very core of her being, were life lessons one only learnt the hard away. And among them, not to trust anyone. Sharing a sonic was something any sentient creature with half a brain knew required a certain degree of _trust._

She didn't want to exercise the trust she'd placed in Cassian, which inarguably he had earned. No, she simply didn't want the worst to come to him because of her. She'd seen him fall. She knew he'd climbed back up, with a broken back and barely-functioning legs, and she knew he'd shot the man in white who had haunted her nightmares for most part of her life.

She knew her physical injuries from Scarif were less severe than his, but she was going through excruciating pain in places the rain had touched her skin or seeped through her clothing. She could only imagine what the pain must be like for him.

At first it stung where the spray touched and she hissed through her teeth, but then that burn evaporated and turned into something that felt good, felt healing. She let it through her hair and rubbed into her scalp. Allowed her face and neck to freeze up, pleasantly, until she was shivering the slightest bit. She sighed, wondered what the last time was when anything had felt so...liberating.

_If she was being honest with herself, those final moments on the beach had felt exactly that._

She caught the sound of footsteps outside the door, and realized that he was back, likely with clothes borrowed for her. Jyn scowled internally. Great. She couldn't keep him waiting forever, and that meant she had to give this up pretty soon, didn't it?

She turned off the sonic, opening the door a crack and holding her hand out. Folded clothing was passed to her.

"Nesra wants you to let her know if they're uncomfortable or anything," he said.

"How burnt are you?" she asked, pulling on the new pants lent to her.

There was a snort from the other side of the door. "Very funny."

"It's all yours," she informed him, stepping out of the refresher, squeezing her hair with a lent towel. "I suggest you keep the temperature where I left it."

Cassian smiled his barely-there smile as he went in once she'd vacated it. He took new clothes with him while he went, and she was almost sorry to see the profile of his lean, slightly muscular figure disappear from view, although at the sight of parched skin at the back of his neck and arms- a result of the toxic air and rain- and the dark bruising that spread around his spine, her heart lurched a little.

She mentally kicked herself. _That's enough._

###### 

"You're telling me a rebel ship slipped right from in between our fingers when they started firing at us?"

It was quiet aboard the bridge. There were no sounds of whispering, breathing or even fidgeting. All eyes were trained on the Commander, who had stopped pacing, who looked furious and intolerant.

"You chickened out when a _U-Wing_ opened fire on a _Star Destroyer?_ Answer me, Corporal!"

The Corporal in question, standing closer to him than everyone else, lowered his eyes when he answered. "Yes, sir."

"Unbelievable," hissed his commanding officer. "Unbelievable. Can we track them? Do we know where they went?"

An officer with Lieutenant rank plates stepped up. "With all due respect, Commander, tracking them down will be a trivial pursuit. What are the chances that an insignificant, unprotected cargo shuttle is carrying the plans? We could have easily destroyed it and the plans along with it. The Rebellion would not have taken the risk."

The Commander turned on him with fiery eyes. "Your sense of perception continues to amaze me. That shuttle, insignificant as it may seem, was not headed in the same direction as the rest of the rebel ships. That is what I've been told. Why would they stray from the fleet, where there is protection? They're a backup plan. They're likely carrying copies of whatever they stole from Scarif to take to the Alliance in the event that the rebel fleet does not return with it."

"Commander, they are likelier to be ground soldiers fleeing the scene because they can't fight back."

The Commander narrowed his eyes. "Are you arguing with me, Larson?"

The Lieutenant backed down slowly. "No, sir. Just a suggestion."

"In any event," the disgraced Corporal was heard suddenly. Every eye in the room turned to look at him, suddenly back at his workstation, reading off the display. "We have intercepted the rebels who have the plans. Sir."

A message played over the intercom. All nearby Imperial vessels were requested with assistance to restrain the _Tantive IV_ and the rest of the rebel fleet.

###### 

_Don't be pessimistic. Don't be pessimistic._

Serchill stared out through the viewport and wondered how the hell he was supposed to be positive about their odds for survival. The rain had gotten so much worse in the past hour than when Jyn and Cassian had first set out, and the plains spread before them were flooded enough to look like a shallow body of water, its surface glistening in the light of two moons. He'd had to elevate the ship on its emergency landing skids to avoid dipping in. Realistically, there was no chance in hell of Cassian being able to drag his broken bones through the flood now. He hoped they weren't still navigating. 

_Try not to be realistic, either._

He absently starting tapping a rythm on the armrest of the pilot's seat. The surge of adrenaline that had flooded, overpowered his system and his discernible senses because of their reckless escape from Scarif- because of swooping in at the last moment to pick up Jyn and Cassian- and because of the quick, unthinking jump to hyperspace and all the time planning and arguing after that- was finally draining out of him. And it left him with a pang in his heart that he knew had been there since the first rebel soldier went down on Scarif, which he could only pay attention to now that silence filled the shuttle around him. 

_Sefla._

Sefla had had his ridiculous moments. He'd assigned almost everyone who worked with him, Serchill included, nicknames that were either mildly offensive or unfairly hilarious in the wrong context. Whenever they'd happened to be on Base at the same time with no work to do, Sefla had been one of the people he'd shared his contraband with. 

_Melshi. You charming asshole._

He'd shared his contraband with Melshi, as well, and the senior soldier had always grumbled about getting drunk before duty but had never actually turned down the offer. Ever. He used to drink a little less instead. 

_Tonc. Pao._

Was it on Haidoral that the two of them had provided him cover fire while he made a beeline for the vault doors, and safety beyond that? Yes, they hadn't been close friends of his, but they'd been exceptional allies on the field.

Who else had gone? What were the other familiar faces that had surrounded him on Scarif? Yes, he could...he could remember faces. Faces only though, from all kinds of abstract angles; colours, grins, eyes. Faces flashed behind his eyes every time he blinked. No more names came to mind. There were memories, though, from Scarif and before, but there were no more nametags attached to them. 

He wondered if they would make it after all. It seemed death had taken a liking to every one of them, and now followed those of Rogue One who had slipped from its fingers the first time.

He was shaken from his thoughts at the sound of voices from the ship's lobby. Hurried talking. Exclamations. A thud as someone got to his feet, and another as he stumbled. 

Ignoring the strain in his hazardously patched-up shoulder, he made a hurried exit from the cockpit, telling himself it was probably nothing, but _Death is on our heels, we're lucky we made it this far-_ and surveying what he found with alert eyes and a body prepared for action. 

His exaggerated heartbeat slowed down. He lowered his defenses, and murmured a silent thanks to the Force. 

The second Guardian, the one whose robes were dull and damp with blood, was no longer lying lifeless across the crew bench. He'd heaved himself up- _somehow-_ enough to lean heavily against the other Guardian's shoulder. 

The defector was sitting on the floor. His half-hand had been momentarily stabilised with bloodflow suppressants and numbing needles enough to use on three people with less severe injuries. 

Baze flickered his dark eyes upwards to look at him. "He's alive," he said, most emotion buried in the gruff voice of a man who'd seen too much. 

"I know," said Serchill automatically, and when he got no immediate response, he moved forward tentatively to sit on the floor beside the defector. 

He didn't remember the man's name. The defector had saved his life today, but he didn't remember his name. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, and it came out so blandly that he immeidtaley wanted to take it back. Maybe replace it with some other question. Asking a man who'd just got half an arm blown off if he was alright was...how would Jyn put it? Tactically _idiotic._

The former-Imperial nodded hurriedly. There was a lost, far-away look in his eyes that he kept directed at his lap. 

He looked up at the Guardian again, the fully-conscious one. The other one was breathing lightly. An almost-smile was on his face, but Serchill credited that to his imagination.

"When this kind of thing happens-" He weakly gestured around. His shoulder throbbed in its grazed socket. "When we're waiting on hope, or a chance, or- or an extraction team, after things have gone to Bantha shit- we don't keep quiet. It's...it's not a good way to pass the time. We talk, or sing, or pick one member of the team to make fun of, but it's all in good spirit, of course."

Baze raised an eyebrow. He noticed a gash on the Guardian's creased forehead. "So while we wait on Jyn and the Captain- we sing?"

Serchill sighed. "We'll talk. Maybe. Right now this ship sounds like it's full of dead people."

To his surprise- and shock- the one to reply to that was the barely-conscious Jedhan, whose features twitched in what was definitely a real smile. 

"Are we not dead people...?"

"Serchill," he responded, staring.

The other Guardian opened his eyes- slowly, either because he was in pain or because he was deliberately taking all the time in the world- and lifted his head a fraction, and pushed off Baze's side with care until he was seated more or less on his own, leaning back against the wall for support but otherwise appearing as fine as any of them. 

"Serchill," he acknowledged, and now the rebel saw that his eyes were an impossible light blue colour, and that they were unseeing. "What do you propose we talk about?"

Baze eyed him unappreciatively. "I don't think you should be doing any talking, Chirrut."

The blind man hummed to himself in mock-annoyance. "I don't want to feel like a dead man."

The defector suddenly snapped up, eyes wide. He stared openly at Chirrut, who somehow _knew_ and smiled down at him, before his face lit up in unbridled joy. 

"You're _alive!_ " he exclaimed, and almost went to get up, but didn't because he was in no position to. He stared at the Jedhan monk, an impossible grin splitting his face, and breathed out a loud, shuddering speech. "Thank the Force. Thank the Force, I thought you were...I thought I was seeing things and...oh, _Force._ "

He was _laughing._ Freely. In relief and exhilaration and pent-up adrenalin and thanks. 

Chirrut beamed at him. Baze rolled his eyes. 

The defector's laughing came to an uncertain stop, hitching before it did. His eyes were suddenly wider, suddenly more alert and aware of what was going on around him. "Where's Jyn? Where...where are we?"

"Bodhi-" started Baze. 

Serchill gritted his teeth. He'd seen this before. He knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, the man realized something else was amiss, and the tendrils of panic were just starting to creep back onto his face when Chirrut interrupted with a mantra. 

The words were indistinguishable, murmured with some semblance of tune, but it was only three seconds before it took effect. Bodhi clutched his bandaged arm at the flesh, his knuckles going white around his grip, but he didn't burst into a fit of panic. He screwed his eyes shut tightly and breathed along to whatever Chirrut was saying. 

Baze started repeating the same words, low, unworldly murmurs that managed to both unsettle and calm the nerves that spiked within him. 

After some distant part of his brain registered what words were being repeatedly chanted, Serchill found his lips moving to the same words and a half-asserted tune building under his tongue. 

To his relief, he found that it calmed him. 

###### 

Nesra kept on avoiding looking at Cassian directly, but while she laid out an intriguing variety of ration bars and canned foodstuffs, she shot a glance his way every now and then and smothered a grin. 

Eventually she caught Jyn's eye, and only bit back another grin and pressed a finger to her lips. Confused, Jyn tried not to think about whatever that was going on and instead keep her gaze trained on the window and the rainfall beyond it.

But somehow she caught Nesra's eye again and the other girl couldn't keep it to herself anymore, and laughed. 

Cassian had been absently staring out the window just as she had. The new noise made him sit straight and turn his head. 

His face dropped into an exasperated look.

"What is it, Nesra?"

Jyn turned around to pay attention to this turn of events because while she did fear for the crew aboard their ship in this almost-torrential rain, nothing much was happening in what she could see of it. 

Nesra's eyes twinkled with mischief. They were brown, Jyn noted absently, a shade lighter than Cassian's. She had short, energetic black hair and tan skin like his. Without much thought, she wondered if there was some family resemblance, or if they came from the same area. 

"Those are my clothes you're wearing," she disclosed finally, chewing back an obvious grin. 

Cassian blinked, but his expression didn't change beyond the momentary surprise, and he nodded curtly, still exasperated. 

"I figured."

The girl reached over to punch him playfully in the shoulder, although the contact was light, like too much of force would break him. Maybe he wasn't hiding his pain as well as he thought. "Lighten up, will you?"

He cleared his throat. "How bad are the rains this season?"

Nesra's smile dropped, and with it the warmth of the small living quarters, but she caught on quickly that the question was needed and answered in a quiet voice. 

"Not good. It'll be at a peak in two more months, but right now it's going to gradually build. Looks pretty bad tonight, though. Every establishment in the district would've closed up already." She shook her head. "You won't get anything done if you step out now." 

Cassian closed his eyes, cursing with a sharp intake of breath. Jyn slumped back in her own seat. _What a kriffing stroke of luck._

"How much longer?" Cassian asked. 

Nesra pulled out the third chair and sat down unceremoniously. "Three or four more hours. The streets will be flooded by then, and it'll take another hour for the drainage system to flush everything out. You're looking for a hospital?"

He nodded slowly, gaze unreadable in her direction.

"Medical facilities will be working again as soon as possible. They tend not to slack with healthcare here, though it's really only for Imperial servants and people who can afford to pay."

Jyn looked at Cassian. He buried his face in his hand, kneading the lines on his forehead. Nesra watched them both silently. 

"We only need about three uses of a bacta tank. What will it take?" Cassian looked up. "What can we do to make credits fast?"

"Marlika has a strong Imperial body," Nesra answered carefully, like a wrong word on her part could lead to unwise action. "And it's not generous with its resources. The only way you can earn a lot fast is by doing something in demand but illegal, strictly against Imperial policies, and not getting caught."

"We're rebels," commented Jyn warily, leaning back in her seat. Scarif had come with a great cost, one that hadn't fully struck her yet, and after all she'd seen and done on that mission nothing seemed intimidating, or impossible now. "What are our options?"

Nesra closed her eyes, sighing quietly. When she opened them again, worry and fear were scribbled on her face like an open book. "Please choose what you want to do carefully."

Cassian reached across the table, covered her hand in his. His gaze held acknowledgment, but also a firm sense of authority. "Tell me."

The girl bit her lip, went to say something, reconsidered her words and spoke again, with caution. "Not a great deal of options in the district capital, but go further out and you'll find plenty of contractors for illegal jobs. There are a couple of established rings; they're the ones you should seek out. I have...distant contacts in some. Gun running. Buying and selling glitterstim. All kinds of theft. Uh, bodily services, not illegal but unregulated high-paying in the right circles." She paused. "Assassination."

Cassian couldn't retain a neutral expression. Not after Eadu, and not after he'd taken on Scarif to set things _right._

_You're a spy. You're an assassin. What did you think you'd go back to after Scarif? Resident code-breaker?_

He hadn't thought there'd be anything after Scarif. He'd accepted it to be the end of the line for him. 

But it wasn't. He was still a soldier of the rebellion with a specific role to play. That would remain a constant for as long as he lived. 

And now he had a team to save. Urgently. 

"Could you get me in?" 

Nesra pursed her lips, but didn't protest beyond this wrinkle of dissatisfaction. "Yeah. Maybe. I'll have to pull a lot of strings, but I think I can do it." 

Jyn leaned forward, copying his stance. Looked at Nesra with an expression that allowed no room for argument. "Could you sign me up as well?" 

Next to her, Cassian went stiff. He turned to face her with a pained expression. "Jyn-" 

"Remind me how far you fell again?," asked Jyn in the same tone. "It's either me or both of us. Can you get us in, Nesra?" 

Despite everything, it looked like Nesra almost smiled for a second. But it was gone as soon as it had come, and she nodded slowly, following with, "I can't get you an...ordinary job, though. The gangs all have contract killers among their members. If they'd consider you at all, it'd be for a task that they wouldn't risk their own on." 

Cassian closed his eyes, exhaling steadily. "Then let's hope they have one of those tasks, shall we?" 

Nesra sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, let's hope so. Meanwhile I suggest the two of you get some rest. There's really nothing you can do until the rain stops." 

Jyn glared in the direction of the window, where the rain was still batting down, still persistent. She hated feeling helpless. Knowing that Bodhi and Chirrut were hanging onto dear life desperately and Serchill was keeping the ship upright while the fields around them flooded while _she_ was in this safe haven where the rain couldn't get her, where death didn't hang above her head like a promise. 

A hand encased hers, gently. "We'll do what we can as soon as possible. Rest for now, Jyn." 

She looked up sharply to meet Cassian's gaze, only to back down when she noticed it was soft and earnest in a way she'd never seen before. Or she had, in the shifting confines of a turbolift, what felt like a lifetime ago. 

She couldn't think of anything to say, and she knew her voice wouldn't be steady if she spoke in the first place. 

Why did she care so much? She cared more than she'd ever cared in her life. 

She had nothing left to go back to. She'd briefly considered running, if they returned to Yavin Base. But where to? She had no place out there, in the vast expanse of a galaxy that had only been cruel to her. 

All she had was the pieces that remained of the Rogue One crew. And damn the galaxy for trying to take that away from her, too. 

"Alright," she mouthed, inaudibly. Caught herself. Nodded, firmly, re-confirming, "Alright." 

"You can have my bed," said Nesra, quietly, like she was intruding on a private conversation. 

Jyn closed her eyes. Blinked open when she saw Scarif behind them. Gathering herself she stood up, pushing her chair back, and gave the younger woman what she hoped passed for a _thank you_ expression. 

She vaguely registered that Cassian walked her to the door, a hand under her elbow. They paused in the doorway. She cleared her throat. 

"You're not taking that job alone. Don't leave without me, Cassian." 

Momentarily, a look crossed his face, like he'd been planning on doing just that, but then it was gone, and - somehow she knew it wasn't a farce - replaced by an honest, meaningful look. 

"I won't, Jyn." 

He wouldn't. 

She nodded, hesitated, and continued into the dark room while he stayed where he was. Nesra's room had curtains that were worn thin and drawn apart, allowing a view of the rain and lights outside. She had a reasonably sized bed, one that would be found in homes but not military dorms, with cream-coloured sheets and a heavy bedspread. It seemed the girl had spent more on her bedding than on the rest of the house, which was in Jyn's opinion a luxury that made sense, with the lives they lived, though she couldn't imagine Alliance personnel running on more than a few hours of sleep at a time. 

Cassian gave it a couple of heartbeats before turning and closing the door behind him. Nesra was watching from behind the table. 

When he joined her again, there was the slightest hint of a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

"Is it that you're soft around her," she said. "Or am I imagining this because I've wanted you to have a partner for a very long time?" 

"You're my partner," said Cassian neutrally, although she could catch a minute amount of warning in the way he said it, like he'd really rather not pursue this line of conversation. 

"Come on," Nesra rolled her eyes. "I know whatever mission you just came from is like, confidential and pfssak, but can I at least know where she came from? How long have you known each other?" 

"Two weeks," muttered Cassian, running a hand through his hair tiredly. He didn't look up at her. 

Nesra gaped. "Two _weeks?_ " 

He sighed. "That's not important." 

His partner was practically grinning from ear-to-ear now, leaning in from across the table. A mischievous, inquisitive look was plastered on her face. "Hey, I'm not judging. It takes seconds to fall in love, am I right?" 

" _Hermana-_ " 

" _Cass._ " Nesra cut in pointedly. "Partner. You know I've waited a long time for this, and I _know_ I'm not mistaken about it, so you should get to telling me the details already." 

Cassian knew nothing would come from disagreeing with her, but not saying anything was as good as conceding to her point. "You _have_ waited a long time. That's why you're assuming this the first time I come here with someone new." 

Nesra faked an offended pout. "You're telling me I'm seeing things? You two weren't standing close enough to kiss over there?" 

He treated her to his most unimpressed look. Efficient agent though she may be, she was still eight years his junior, and although the war and her experience on Fest had hardened her around the edges, she hadn't seen nearly as much as he'd seen and she still had it in her to make light of every situation and act childish where it wasn't a risk to do so. Next to her, it always felt like his darkness was diminishing, like he was slowly being lead out of his prison. 

Nesra didn't buy the look. "Kay said that the chances of you delivering on those threats are astronomically low." 

He ignored the clench in his heart. 

_Don't tell her. Tell her later._

"Because you're an agent I report from." 

Nesra huffed. "Because you love me. Kay wouldn't know, though. Hey, could he predict the chances that you're into her? Then we can both poke fun at you."

Cassian gripped his mug of caf again, tighter than he would've liked, threw some of it down his throat. He tamped down the instinctive response to cough as the bitter, murky liquid soiled his tongue. 

__

"This is worse than fuel," he winced. "Where do you get such bad caf?"

__

Nesra swallowed a chuckle, but it was obvious. "That's not caf."

__

Cassian raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to know."

__

The rain was speeding up outside. 

__

It had been a long while since they'd spent time together like this. There was normally no room for quiet, for real conversations that were more than snippets in the middle of a mission. He had only taken her on field missions thrice before, two of them within Marlika's Belt. All the other times they'd met had been to exchange information or so he could interact firsthand with her growing network of contacts, but there'd always been an undeniable connection that they felt; maybe stemming from the fact that they were both from the same Empire-overrun planet, or because they'd been very young when they'd first worked together, or because senior operatives and their subjects were supposed to share a connection anyway. But Cassian could have handed the Marlika-sector assignment to another officer with more time and less undercover aliases to maintain, yet he hadn't. He didn't think he would as long as Nesra was the one co-ordinating it. 

__

It wasn't like he needed attachments. But she needed him.

__

Nesra's playful smirk was gone when he looked at her next. She'd been stalling, of course. There was something she'd been meaning to ask since he'd got here. 

__

The girl shifted uncomfortably, picking up her own mug of whatever-the-kriff-it-was and taking an uneasy sip. 

__

"It never gets easier," she said quietly. Her eyes were cast down. He listened patiently.

__

"Have you ever had to..." Nesra drank off the bitter thing again, not looking up at him. "Have you ever...manipulated someone? Because of- because of the cause?"

__

Cassian felt the slightest frown coming on. He manipulated people. That was his job. She was young, but not young enough to overlook that. 

__

"Manipulation is all you do in this line of work, Nesra."

__

She shook her head, pushing away the mug like it was distracting her. "Right. Yes. I know. Yeah." She was dismissive, but he could read between the lines.

__

He turned his eyes on her, even though she was still not meeting them directly. "And you already know that. What happened?"

Nesra swallowed, feeling his stare more than seeing it. _He knows he knows he knows._

__

"Have you..." she bit down her words, reconsidering. Should she go through with this? What would he say? Kriff it. "Ever had to manipulate...someone's feelings?"

__

_He's got blood on his hands because of the cause. Force, he's going to think you're such a baby._

__

But Cassian didn't laugh, and a long stretch of uncomfortable silence followed her question. Steeling herself for the worst, she dared to look up at last. 

__

He wore an impassive expression, looking in her direction but not focusing on her.

__

"Yes."

__

Nesra exhaled loudly, almost in relief, but mostly because she didn't know where to go from here. She rubbed her temples in and tried to continue. 

__

Cassian spoke first, surprising her. "I have. More than a few times. Feelings are easily turned around and used for learning things you need to know. They work better than threats, even bribes. Manipulating feelings is...effective."

__

She stared at him. 

__

He sighed. "But there are different levels of it. Some kinds are excusable because they're trivial in the bigger picture. Playing on fear or doubt is easy. There isn't a lot of guilt attached to it. Playing on loyalty is a difficult burden to bear. It'll serve the purpose but it'll hurt you. A bullet you're taking for the cause."

__

He shook his head, posture all wrong, an invisible burden on his shoulders. "Play on trust, however, actual trust, and turn around and betray someone who thought you had their back; it takes a lot out of you. I don't do that. I try to keep it at loyalty, at the most. That's why contacts...shouldn't be attachments." He gave her a look that was meaningful and firm, strict and advising all at once. "You understand?"

__

Nesra screwed her eyes shut and nodded quickly. 

__

" _Hermana-_ " She opened them again when she felt his voice closer, softer. His brown orbs were almost a reflection of her own. "You're the only person I'm allowed to care about."

__

"But not because you'll have to betray me."

__

"No," he was far away again, looking disembodied, detached. "Because I might lose you." He focused, for real this time. "What happened, Nesra?"

__

"There was another...meeting," she swallowed. "Not a meeting, you know, an informal...for information?"

__

Cassian nodded slowly. 

__

"A contractor in the mines here. I was trying to figure out why there are people being shipped in here to work in those empty spaces. So I, uh, met the guy, asked him out."

__

"Why is he different?"

__

Nesra blinked. "He's- that's not it, Cass. It's not _him._ "

__

"So he's an ordinary unsuspecting informant," he raised an eyebrow. "No trust, no loyalty. Don't beat yourself up over this, Nesra."

__

"I can't keep doing this!" she hissed, pleading in her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I'm not you, and I _can't!_ Do you know what it's like- well, of course you know, but- these people don't know who I am, they think I like them, they start to like me. I give them hopes that never deliver. It's- cruel."

__

"You don't talk to normal people," said Cassian quietly. "These informants you feel sorry for- Imperial officers, contractors, low-lifes who deal in Spice- you don't have to feel sorry for them. They're not on our side. They wouldn't have a lot of sympathy if they found out what you were."

__

Nesra pressed her lips together tightly, hoping the words would sink in. _It's okay, it's okay because they're not on our side._

__

"Yeah."

__

"Hey," Cassian sounded more like the young rebel spy she'd met years ago as a child now rather than the man he was now, immune to the deeds he did and hardwired to deliver for the rebellion. "It's good that you care. It really is."

__

But she couldn't put the cause first-

__

"It isn't always about the cause. It's good to...save something. Some part of yourself for when this war is over."

__

Nesra blinked, taken aback. He never talked like this. He _never_ assumed out loud that the war would end, or considered a life after it. That's why he didn't keep attachments. That's why he could bring himself to do the things he did, how he made such a good soldier, Draven's most valuable sentient asset.

__

"But for now, while you have to do this. Just keep in mind it's not something you'd do if they were ordinary people, if they were people who wouldn't hurt you when they found out who you worked for. So it's not cruel, you know? It's not cruel on your part."

__

She dragged her chair back, getting to her feet unknowingly. Headed over to his side without thinking about it. 

__

But he knew what he had to do, and stood up as well, holding his arms out to steady her. She was glad for his warm, familiar embrace when it came. 

__

__

###### 

__

The rain had stopped by the time she woke up. It was the first thing she registered- there was no blue-black darkness seeping into the room and the sound of water and hailstones hitting the ground, so consistent the previous night, was no more. Instead a bright sunlight- almost pleasant, yellow tinged with orange- filled the small room through the windows. It was only somewhat dimmed by the curtains. 

__

She looked over her shoulder to the other corner of the bed. Cassian occupied more space than she did, but he was also curled in on himself, facing the other way, leaving a respectful gap between them.

__

Dreams hadn't been pleasant. Not nightmarish, like she'd feared, just...strange. Snippets. Feelings. Faces. 

__

A beach. Explosions. 

__

Jyn dropped down onto her back, feeling the mattress dent under her. The pillow was soft and welcoming. It was a long time since she'd last used a bed with a pillow, not to mention a headrest. 

__

She glanced to her left when she heard Cassian murmur something, then turn over carefully, half-awake. 

__

He winced and swore under his breath. She sat up a little straighter. 

__

"You alright?"

__

He shook himself out of it and was awake, fully alert. His face slipped into a neutral mask that didn't show pain or tiredness. She would've believed it if she hadn't seen his expression initially. 

__

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."

__

She raised an eyebrow. 

__

Cassian cleared his throat. "Whatever it is we have to do," he reiterated. "You're not doing it on your own."

__

Jyn's scowl was on reflex. "I thought we had a deal that we're equal on this mission?"

__

"That's not-" He pushed himself to a seated position, rubbing in the sides of his forehead. "The _problem_ is that this isn't a one-man job."

__

"Yet you were originally going to take it on your own."

__

"I've done this sort of thing before."

__

" _Entirely_ on your own?" Jyn asked doubtfully, but in the back of her mind she winced at her own bluntness.

__

Cassian didn't outwardly react, but she knew she'd hit a sore spot, and a hasty apology was on the tip of her tongue before he cut her off curtly.

__

"There was a time before Kay. But that's not the point I'm trying to make."

__

Jyn sat back, drew her knees to her chest. Put on a look she hoped was patient, but not surrendering too much of leniency.

__

"It doesn't have to be just us. Baze is fit enough and strong enough to contribute, too."

__

Her stiff posture dropped slightly. It was a good idea. She'd thought of it. 

__

"Let's not present me to whichever ringleader Nesra finds. You're right that I can barely...walk straight, and no one's going to give a job to an assassin who turns up limping."

__

Jyn nodded slowly, but there was a weary glint in her eyes when she glanced his way. 

__

"So Baze and I are going through with this?"

__

"And I join as soon as you set out."

__

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she did she realized there was no talking him out of this. 

__

Was he concerned for their safety, thinking of them as his responsibility? Trying to outplay the guilt that all the lost lives on Scarif had left him with?

__

Cassian's tone of voice allowed no room for argument. He knew he wasn't in peak condition, but _wanted_ this burden on himself. 

__

And who was she to deny him his chance of retribution?

__

"Alright," she said instead, dryly. "As long as you're not...a liability."

__

She didn't want to use those words. She didn't feel she had any right, when for the past two weeks she had been a liability he'd only repeatedly come back for. 

__

But Cassian seemed to get it, and simply nodded. "I won't be in the way."

__

Good. 

__

_Don't be a liability._

__

How else was she supposed to say she cared when that concern chilled her more than anything else? 

__

###### 

__

The streets of Tekola were only halfway flooded by the time they head out. Life for the residents seemed to continue on as normal, with a marketplace being set up from below the line of water, expansive grey tarps draped over the stands that were beginning to fill with goods. This was the last day of the week on Marlika, and in Nesra's words the only time the morning was crowded. Tekola was known for its night life and Imperial presence. 

__

Most of the sentients- prominently human, with a rare Zabrak or Rhodian here and there- appeared unbothered by the ankle-deep floodwater, so with the cautious steps they took Jyn and Cassian passed off as tourists or off-worlders here on work while they walked behind Nesra, their enthusiastic guide who appeared to be carrying half their goods. 

__

She pointed at stalls with exotic items and tempting foostuffs, but it wasn't long before Jyn stopped paying attention, and her focus was divided between Cassian's increasingly unstable state and the environment's potential danger. 

__

The groundcar wouldn't work in this level of water. They had to rely on public transport to get close to the border and take it from foot there. Get to the U-Wing and leave the capital district, travel to one of the shadier regions where there'd be work for them, and...

__

It _sounded_ smooth. By all accounts the plan was simple, and should go by without a hitch.

__

They had a lot of walking to do, and they'd wasted a lot of time. Jyn didn't know if Chirrut and Bodhi had lasted. She didn't know how long Cassian would last. 

__

And if they returned to a ship full of dead bodies, what then? 

__

"We have to take the Erkerhel line," said Nesra, coming to a stop at a place the road divided, the left side leading to a bang-up looking monorail that was filling in already. "Note: not the classiest public transport body around. Try not to sway into anyone's personal space. These aren't people who prefer to avoid fights."

__

"Noted," said Cassian dryly, casting a wary look at a hulking Zabrak, who irritably pushed two humans off the ticketing platform. 

__

Nesra paid a meagre amount of credits for the moderate distance and herded them into an untrustworthy, dented compartment with a little available space. She made them sit closer to the entrance and placed herself on the row opposite. At Cassian's questioning look, she gestured that she had no intention of squeezing in between him and the sweaty pre-teen next to him, or between Jyn and the Zabrak from before, whose horns looked painfully sharp.

__

The carriage started moving with a sudden jerk. The sweaty youth fell back into Cassian, and Cassian's free arm was immediately around Jyn, keeping her anchored to his side so as not to get partially impaled. 

__

When the pace of the transport settled, the young guy nervously apologized and slid back to his proper place. 

__

"You alright?" asked Jyn in a low volume. 

__

His ribs had taken an impact, and he realized was visibly biting back the wince.

__

"Fine," he replied, schooling his features and carefully withdrawing his arm.

__

After he settled down with due precaution, Nesra had the audacity to _smirk_ at him. 

__

The Zabrak stretched out restlessly, nearly clubbing Jyn across the face, and she grit her teeth in simmering irritation. 

__

It was going to be a long ride.

__

###### 

__

Serchill wondered, not for the first time, if a bottle of the rebellion's filthiest alcohol wouldn't make their situation better. 

__

The water levels had gone down, enough so that the ship could balance without its weight having to be carefully distributed by moving parts inside of it, and impossibly, daytime had come to this miserable planet.

__

Only Chirrut and Bodhi had slept the previous night, the former because of exhaustion and the latter fitfully, not well enough to even call it sleep. Baze had closed his eyes and muttered to himself a number of times, or chanted the mantra under his gruff voice, but he'd been as alert as Serchill, senses on fire and ready to strike should death try to claw at them again. 

__

He worked while in the pilot's seat and tried not to think about all that could've gone wrong. Cassian and Jyn might have not made it. The plains had been flooding last night, and they hadn't exactly been in prime condition. Or they might've encountered trouble, to be taken in by the Empire for questioning. 

__

Funny how surviving greater odds didn't make you indestructible in lesser situations.

__

The rains last night had activated the ship's sensors and set off several sirens and warning lights, nearly sending Bodhi into a fresh wave of panic. He'd turned every sensor off, but now that the rain was gone and there could still be danger in the open, Serchill tried to activate them again. He was not a pilot, and he wasn't adept at fixing things. Welcoming distraction or not, he didn't seem to be making progress with the sensors. 

__

A light on the dashboard started flashing. Then the engine compartment siren whistled. 

__

"Yeah, kriff you too!" he shouted back at the engines. 

__

There. Whistling stopped. The landing skids were being retracted. Why the kriff was that happening? 

__

He peered down from the side viewport. No, they weren't. It was only the stupid tendency of this ship to make unnecessary noises. 

__

He thought he'd rather deactivate the sensors altogether when _all_ of them went off at once. 

__

"Son of a-" Serchill slammed a fist against the dashboard. " _Son of a bitch._ "

__

To make things even worse, Rook came scrambling into the cockpit amid the chaos. 

__

"What's happening?" he babbled, panicked. "What's going on?"

__

" _Karking_ piece of _bantha guts._ " cursed Serchill, waving an impatient, dismissive hand. "Nothing. The sensors are all kriffed up."

__

Bodhi seemed to relax then, but the strain in his expression didn't entirely go away. Neither did the annoying sirens. 

__

"Can I...can I help?"

__

"Yes." Serchill dropped himself to the pilot's seat heavily, trying to tune the noise out of his head. "Please."

__

Bodhi took to the other seat cautiously, like one wrong move could break him further, and hesitantly- so hesitantly- flipped a couple of switches under the dashboard with his good hand. The noises died out one by one. 

__

"Didn't know there was anything under there in the first place," Serchill commented with dry amusement.

__

Bodhi smiled in that nervous, fleeting way of his. "The ones under the...under the dash are for resetting." He gestured weakly. "For the smaller things. Like...bad sensors, air conditioning and, um...hold temperature."

__

"Since when?"

__

Bodhi blinked, and it was a while before he processed his words. "It's not standard. But, um, ships of this make have it there."

__

Serchill sighed, leaning back with his arms crossed over his head. "I'm bad with ships. This is the first time I've flown since I was twenty."

__

_But you got us off Scarif,_ Bodhi's look said, but they didn't talk about Scarif out loud.

__

A moment stretched on in almost companionable silence, if Bodhi's restless fidgeting was counted out. His good hand shook with nowhere to put it. The torniquet hung by his other side, limp. 

__

The motion-sensors outside the ship kicked up and blared to life. 

__

Serchill sprang to his feet in agitation, ready to launch a tirade of curses at the universe around him, but Baze's abrupt arrival in the cockpit stopped him. 

__

"We've got company."

__

" _Kriff,_ " Serchill followed him instantly, but Bodhi hung back, took it slowly. He only carried himself as far as the lobby, opting to stand awkwardly by Chirrut's side. Chirrut, who'd just woken up, and gazed unseeingly at the hatch as Serchill hit it open.

__

His knees nearly gave out in relief. They were back.

__

Baze lowered his weapon only when he was double sure of the figures standing in the shallow flood before him. 

__

"Welcome back," he said gruffly. "Do we know what we're doing next?"

__

"There's a plan," answered Jyn, only half-paying attention because Cassian's arm was slung around her neck while his frame- worse off than the before by a _long shot_ was being supported at her side. Now that they'd come to a stop, he cautiously extracted himself, but the unnatural, lilted way he stood was obvious from here. They were with a girl who could only be his contact. "Is Chirrut...and Bodhi?" 

__

Baze's eyes turned somehow soft, and he clipped the blaster to his side. "Holding on. Come inside." He looked at Nesra, who'd been trying not to pay too much attention. Or at least look like she hadn't been concentrating hard. It was rookie mistake her friend and mentor frequently warned against. "Thank you for agreeing to help."

__

Cassian didn't even object when Baze took over from Jyn to help him up the ramp.

__

That, reflected Serchill uneasily, was worrying. 

__

A soft sound- maybe a relieved laugh- escaped from Jyn when she saw both Chirrut and Bodhi, _alive and conscious_ despite the odds, and only looked mildly surprised when the latter beamed and gathered her into an awkward, one-armed hug. 

__

She stood unresponsive for about five seconds before she brought an arm around his waist from under his bandaged right and another around his upper back, gently. 

__

When they broke apart- taking a painstaking amount of care not to aggravate his injuries- Jyn turned to Chirrut with a grin and the inexplicable urge to hug him too. 

__

"The Force moves brilliantly around you, little sister," he said in that quiet, smiling way of his, and in a heartbeat Jyn was terrified. 

__

Because she felt warm, welcome, but also concerned and a creeping thing that could possibly be panic. For their fate. About losing them. It had been a long time since she'd felt that way about anyone. 

__

Serchill stood before them when the hatch had clicked into place.

__

"Does the next part of the plan involve me doing something besides housekeeping duty?"

__

Baze snorted and Chirrut, Nesra and Bodhi laughed as one quiet sound.

__

But it was a serious question, Jyn could tell, because Cassian looked in no shape to be doing anything more than sitting at the controls of the ship. They could all tell. 

__

Cassian could feel every pair of eyes on him, waiting on a verdict that should be obvious.

__

"Yes, Serchill." He'd taken the bench opposite to Chirrut, and it was impossible to keep the searing streaks up his spine from showing on his face now. "You're in good condition and senior enough to replace me without Command making an issue out of that, too."

Serchill tried to tilt his lips up in a grin at that jab, but it was simply not believable when his Captain was in such obvious pain. 

__

Cassian noted most of all the way Jyn was looking at him, and the concern creeping onto her features, and the calculations happening behind her eyes. 

__

Like Chirrut and Bodhi, he wasn't going to last much longer without a stay in a bacta tank first, and whatever the rebellion could afford to give when -if - they made it to Yavin on time. 

__

He'd been ready to die on the beach on Scarif. He'd be willing to go now if he'd seen the rest of his team taken care of, but he was having no such good fortune and there was still too much to be done.

__

He looked at Baze, at Bodhi, at Chirrut, then finally in Serchill's direction. 

__

"Take charge, Lieutenant."

__

Rostock went for one of his branded side-smiles, but even that fell short. "Aye aye, Captain."

__

Cassian huffed. "Don't you dare."

__

With a wry chuckle, Serchill approached him, clasped his shoulder.

__

"We'll get us out of this mess, Cassian," he said, not loudly, not enough for the others to hear. "And we'll make sure that when they blow up the Death Star, we'll be around to enjoy it."

__

He nodded at everyone else before making for the cockpit to start up the ship. 

__

Nesra sat beside him, silently, and Jyn took up the space opposite, next to Chirrut.

__

In all good logic, he hadn't failed them. Not yet. There was a chance of saving everyone down the path they were taking. He was showing weakness, but it was a legitimate injury, and he couldn't be expected to continually fight it. Even so...

__

"Cassian?" asked Bodhi tentatively, voice quivering with worry for him.

__

Even so, it hurt to look up.

__


End file.
